


Spiralini(ng out of control)

by Lovova



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Dark, Horror, M/M, Not even close to consensual, Yandere, Yandere Papyrus, super dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6999079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovova/pseuds/Lovova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was so, so stupid. He was going to die in this room.</p><p>His brother didn't know how to keep him alive. And if LOVE was now apart of their little, heh, 'physical arrangement', then his brother was going to kill him.</p><p>Oh god his brother was going to kill him.</p><p>Sans laughed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spiralini(ng out of control)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Caveatelli](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6828547) by [Sora_Tayuya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sora_Tayuya/pseuds/Sora_Tayuya). 



AUTHORS NOTE:

So, this is my addition to the Yandere Papyrus tag, which is a sort of series going around in Archive that anyone can add to. It's a direct sequel to Sora_Tayuya's Caveatelli, which in turn is a sequel to Skeletonfricker's Regretti. Reading those two stories before this one is highly recommended. 

On that note, my story is a biiiit....darker? In an already pretty dark series. Triggers I guess would be rape that is, just, SUPER rapey, and limb destruction, and drowning stuff. Yeah. Life kinda sucks for Sans in this story. 

Also, Core!Frisk. They're from tumblr user dokudoki, who I just have to hope doesn't mind their character being the one kind thing about this fic. 

I do my best to actually have an 'ending' for this story, but I highly encourage other interested writers to add to this tag. It's such a fun idea, for those with certain given values of 'fun'. And if you do a piece that is directly related to this one, please send me a link so I can read it too! I love this terrible, awful shit so much.

Have a fun read. 

P.S. So, Archive kind of messed with my formatting? A lot of things below were meant to be broken by italics. I don't know how to fix it just yet, so if some of the sections (for instant, this first one) seem odd, that's why. I'll figure it out! Thanks for the patience.

-

It was a strange place, but Sans liked it.

It was a small, tiled island, round in design, not very big, that only stood not even a foot above the water that surrounded it. The water was perfectly still and impossibly deep, and stretched out farther than Sans could see in every direction. On the island were two big trees, roots twisted into the tile, and a hammock tied between them. In the water was a fish. Somewhere. He couldn't see the fish now, but he had seen it before, gliding gracefully under the water, three times bigger than the island.

almost as soon as paps had moved into his room, sans started to see less and less of him.

In the sky was clouds. In the clouds a dragon. The dragon was so big that Sans had only ever seen pieces of it, whenever some part of it flew low enough to break through the clouds. A claw that would dip down and then up again. Some long, green scaled part of its tail. Once a glimpse at its long, pointed ear. Sans lived for the moments that he saw the dragon, because they were rare and beautiful and special.

the first time paps had left for a few days, he had warned sans and left him some extra food.

The fish made Sans nervous. He never really swam in the water, but often he would enjoy letting his feet hang over the side, allowing his toes to feel weightless as he kicked at the water gently, relaxing. But whenever he noticed the rippling of the water, saw those small waves that were the early warning signs that the fish was coming, he would take his legs out and back away from the edge, a probably irrational fear that the fish would come by and swallow him whole itching away at him until the fish eventually wandered away.

every time after, he hadn't.

The dragon didn't scare him at all. The dragon was too big, and Sans and his little island too small, for it to realize Sans even existed. Sans once, when he had seen the ear, had even tried calling out to it, hoping to get its attention so that its great, massive head might peek down below the clouds to see what the fuss was about.

paps was avoiding something.

Sans had screamed long and loud and joyfully, daring the massive thing to look down, to see him. He shouted to the dragon that he had a 'small' thing to discuss with it. He told the dragon that on a 'scale' of one to ten, it wasn't all that 'massive' of an issue. He told the dragon that he wanted to tell it a 'tail' and hoped that it wouldn't 'dragon' its feet in coming down to see him.

maybe paps was scared of what he was going to do too.

In his head, he screamed and shouted these things to the dragon, and in the room, his chain rattled as Sans body jostled itself with noiseless laughter, Sans staring blankly at the wall, the puzzle in his hand entirely forgotten as Sans tried to think of better puns for his new 'friend'. Papyrus hadn't been home in three days.

good.

 

The dragon didn't notice him, and Sans didn't mind at all.  
-

When Papyrus finally came home, he seemed excited to tell him about some new progress in his training to be a Royal Guard. Sans wasn't sure if among the babble was some explanation as to the latest bout of absence.

He wasn't paying attention anyway.

As Papyrus talked, Sans doodled pictures of dragons and clouds.

-

dear papyrus.  
hey. how are things? i'm doing alright. could be better. i was wondering if we could renegotiate the colla

Sans crossed it out. He bit the end of his pencil for awhile before starting again.

paps.  
im not angry. we can stop doing this any day and i promise that everything will go back to normal. ill never bring it up. we can go ba

Too desperate. Way too desperate. Besides, Papyrus hadn't liked the way it was before. That's why he was in this predicament in the first place. Sans didn't bother lining out this one, just moving on the next blank part of the paper, writing in small, careful handwriting.

bro.  
please tell me you haven't completely ruined my life just because you want to fuck me. also, will letting you fuck me get me out of this fucking room? i think you are seriously underestimating how much i fucking hate this room to not use letting me out as a leverage against me. do you want me to fucking eat spaghetti off your ecto-covered pelvis? want to rip apart my soul? go ahead, use it, abuse it. take it all. i really want to leave this place.  
lets do business.  
sans

This last one actually made him grin; though it was a small, bitter thing. He was tempted to actually try to get Papyrus to read this one. Not that Papyrus had ever read anything that Sans wrote to him. He had pretended to, in the beginning, giving Sans notes to him cursory glances before quickly dismissing whatever the subject matter was with a 'Yes, yes, very good', always immediately jumping into a completely unrelated line of dialogue. These days he wouldn't even acknowledge them, and if Sans tried to insist by shoving the notes into his hands, he'd bundle the paper up into a small ball and toss it in the trash, his rambling about the days’ events never once breaking or faltering, never acknowledging the small cruelty at all.

Sans had stopped trying to deliver the notes after that. But he hadn't stopped writing them.

No, the notes were ultimately useless to communicate with, and a waste of paper besides, which wasn't always plentiful. But they made him feel better. Under his mattress he had dozens of papers, each filled to the very last of their free blank space with messages to Papyrus. He tended to only feel like writing them when he was angry, which wasn't as often as one might think in his situation; when it did happen though, he knew from an outside perspective it would look like maybe his priorities were screwed up, as it was always the littlest things that would suddenly vehemently set him off.

For instance, one day he got frustrated with his eating habits. Very frustrated, to the point where his food was all he could think about all day, and it made him so mad that he had to pace the floor, resisting the urge to uselessly attack the wall as he tried to hold back furious tears. It hadn't been because he hadn't been allowed to physically feed himself in what was coming up in he no longer had any idea how long, or that his taste buds were basically gone due to the horrendous quality of Papyrus's cooking (he had tried just not summoning his tongue when he was eating for awhile, but Paps had caught on and had been annoyed at the revelation, to say the absolute least. Sans had almost exploded that night, and didn’t try it again); it wasn't even the fact that he was regularly forced to over-eat because Paps apparently got a kick out of seeing him on the verge of puking his stomach inside out. No.

What had infuriated him was that he had wanted a nice-cream, and couldn't figure out how to ask for it.

He had woken up craving the sweet, and it was such a small treat and he had been trying so hard to be good lately that he was almost certain Papyrus would have brought him one if he could just figure out how to ask. He had figured out how to make little huffs of sound by blowing out air threw his mouth, a small way around against the silencing collar that chained him to the right side of the room, but all he had managed to accomplish with that small bit of noise was being able to sometimes get Papyrus's attention if he wasn't within poking distance. Other then that, writing to him was useless, he was terrible at drawing pictures, and Paps almost always ignored Sans body language, the last medium in which Sans had plenty to say.

Besides, Papyrus hadn't even shown up that day until late in the evening, as was his habit lately, and so Sans had soothed himself by writing a three paragraph long, biting, vicious letter to his brother, calling his brother all sorts of awful things and demanding ice cream right this very moment, AND an apology, and a DAMNED APOLOGY MADE OF ICE CREAM, PREFERABLY MINT o r e l s e.

Or else nothing, of course, his magic just as suppressed as his voice, but Sans liked to think that if Papyrus had ever read it, the wording would have been just violent enough to frighten his little brother into not being a crazy asshole anymore. Or at least scary enough to get him ice cream. Either way.

He wrote a few more notes, each one some sort of variation on concerns about the collar, which was the most pressing problem on his mind that day, before realizing he had completely run out of the room on the paper. Carefully folding it up, he placed the paper underneath his mattress with the others. He felt a little better. Just because no one read them didn't meant he wasn't saying anything.

It wasn't true anyway. The sex thing. Sans had resigned himself to letting it happen if his brother ever finally got the nerve to go through with it, but trading luxuries for it? To be actively part of it? The idea of consenting to his own rape left Sans feeling hollow and sick. Besides, though Papyrus's physical interest in his brother was as obvious as the sun would be to a bat, Papyrus, perhaps thankfully, seemed unwilling to admit to himself that it was what this was all about. Oh, sure, he was getting more and more bold every day. He had taken to holding Sans whenever he was ready to sit down and watch some MTT or read a book or do basically anything that required resting, and when he held Sans his hands, perhaps subconsciously, would wander. The tips of his finger-bones feather brushing Sans collarbone, his ribs, his thighs. They had started to wander his pelvis once, through the fabric of his pants, but Sans had curled up tightly to withhold access, and if Papyrus had noticed he hadn't said anything. Kisses, in the skeletal sense, came frequently, but were always in more or less innocent places, with the exception of one time when Papyrus, angry, had squeezed Sans shoulders until his grip had ached, and when the anger was spent Papyrus had kissed, with a very apparent linger, both sides of the bruised bones in apology.

Still, if one forgot that, all of Papyrus's physical interactions could still be categorized, from a very narrow and skewed perception, as 'brotherly affection'.

On the other side of that coin, the more bold Papyrus's affection became while his brother was around, the less often his brother actually seemed to be around. Papyrus would spend several night in a row with him, touching idly and talking incessantly and feeding him constantly, and then something would seem to fluster him and he would just be gone. No explanation, no preparation, just gone for days at a time. It had used to worry Sans, but these days he preferred the silence, no longer scared that one day Paps would leave and not come back. His brother would always come back.

Whatever this was all about, his brother wasn't done yet.

His already mild anger spent, Sans sat on the floor, considering what he might do next. He had been working on a thought experiment yesterday with one of his textbooks, trying to work out mathematically if it was actually possible for there to be an infinite number of alternative universes, and if not, where that number might finalize. But the sums were long and tedious without the help of a computer, and Sans had gotten frustrated writing it all out, and didn't feel like going back to keep at it just yet.

He could read a bit, he supposed, but he didn't want to start the other textbooks till he had finished this one, and none of the stories from his available fictions appealed. Besides, he only had access to a certain numbers of books before Papyrus got home, the rest in the bookshelf on the left side of the room, the part where Sans couldn't reach even if he stretched his chain to its limit.

The location of the bookshelf was another small, pointless cruelty, just another example of the absolute control Papyrus had over his life. Sans, perhaps somewhat immaturely, had taken to throwing books that he was done with past the point where his chain would let him reach. Papyrus would come home and complain about Sans messiness and clean up the books, but he always faithfully replaced the book with a new one. Sans small bout of defiance with the books and Papyrus's patient accommodations with them sometimes left Sans feeling a confused mess of guilt and triumph. The triumph coming from that small feeling of finally getting back at his brother a little bit. The guilt from knowing that the only reason he got away with it was because Papyrus allowed it.

He didn't like feeling grateful to Papyrus. He didn't like the part of himself that wanted to allow this to be his life. But that part of him got stronger and stronger every day, the only thing keeping that total acceptance of his new circumstance at bay the fear, hurt, and most importantly, anger, at what this all seemed to be ultimately about.

It was so...what did Pap think he even was? He had turned him into this...could you even call him a 'pet'? Pets at least had some range of motion, room to make small annoying mistakes, like knocking a vase over or running away outside. If anything, Sans felt more like a living, breathing doll. Silent and still, except for when Papyrus felt like playing with his living 'toy'. Hell, Papyrus had even once considered 'fixing' Sans so that he couldn't even walk, truly cementing his role as some limp action figure...

Sans tried not to think about that conversation too much. That potential future only haunted him late at night, when he couldn't sleep and the darkness only invited the most morbid of daydreams. It would hurt if Paps took off his legs. Would it always hurt? Could you ever fix something like that? How much of the red stuff could he lose before his HP finally started to trickle away, only ever sustained, they suspected, by the red stuff itself. It certainly wasn't HOPE that kept him from straight up Falling Down. Heh. Heh.

Heh.

-

“Look Sans!” Papyrus said as his smaller brother came downstairs for the first time that morning. The excitable skeleton was gesturing excitedly at something in the kitchen, clearly excited. “Look what I did while you were lying around?”

“Sleeping, bro.” Sans said, yawning mildly, not really up yet, “I was sleeping, and...” Sans paused at the entrance of the kitchen, looking up. And up. And up. Huh. “Awwwww, look. Our sink had a growth spurt. They grow up so fast these days.”

“I got some planks for the bunnies and checked out some books on basic plumbing and advance carpentry and extended the length of our sink by four times its original size!” Papyrus bragged, his eyes bright and gleeful at the physical display of accomplishment.

“That's really impressive, Paps.” Sans said, sincerely. He just as sincerely asked, “Why?”

“Bones!” Papyrus announced, opening the cabinet and displaying a proud array of new, bright white battle bones. “A new display of weapons for which to train and harden myself with!”

“Cool.” Sans said, though personally thought that just buying another cardboard box would have probably worked. “Hey, Paps, what are we supposed to do the next time we need to, say, get a glass of water? Or do the dishes?”

“Oh, I can reach well enough when I tip-toe and stretch.” Papyrus reassured, displaying this as he did so. He could indeed still reach, though it looked like more effort than it was worth.

“Right. Cool. I mean, I can still see one 'little' issue,” Sans said, winking at his brother, “Just a 'small' problem, really. If you get my drift?”

Papyrus sighed, doing a very impressive mimic of eye rolling, for someone without any. “Oh, Sans, what am I, simple? Of course I thought of you! As the world's greatest brother, I would never forget about you and your needs!”

Sans nodded, genuinely reassured, “Awww, shucks. Thanks bro. So, did you make a ladder from the leftover wood or...?”

“Wood is expensive, Sans, I didn't buy extra, I got as much as I needed. That's what it means to be a frugal shopper,” Papyrus scolded, “No, no, it's simple. Any time you need to use the sink, you just have to ask me for help! There, see? Problem solved! Honestly, Sans, all of life doesn't have to be a puzzle.”

“Oh.” Sans said, looking up at the sink. “What if I need to use it and you're not around?”

Papyrus gave him a mildly puzzled look, as if he couldn't see Sans point.“Why wouldn't I be around? It's not a mistake that we're always put on shift at the same time Sans. And if I'm out, I don't see why you wouldn't be out with me. I'll always be around when you need me.”

Oh. “Okay.”

Sans looked at the sink again, considered arguing....but didn't really have it in him. Papyrus didn't mean any harm, Sans knew. This was just Papyrus being...well, Papyrus. Besides, he didn't need to use the sink that much anyway. Papyrus hated it when he cooked, always complaining that the things stunk up the house or were just plain 'weird', so he had stopped trying to do that. And if he needed a drink, he could always use the sink in the bathroom. No big deal.

Still. “Wouldn't this be kind of an inconvenience for you, bro?”

“Not at all. You are very light, and I am very mighty.” Before Sans could ask why that mattered, Papyrus already had his gloved hands beneath Sans armpits, gently, but firmly, pulling the skeleton up and placing him on top of the sink in one smooth motion. Sans clutched the edge of the counter, trying to blink rapidly through the sudden nauseating sense of vertigo, looking down from the sink as Papyrus let him go and stepped back, grinning up at him.

Whelp. This was happening now.

“Awesome.” Sans said, his feet dangling over the edge. He couldn't actually teleport unless his feet were on the ground. Which put him in a mild predicament. Though Sans heart was beating a little fast at this sudden change on environment (and a very mild, but very there, feeling of being trapped), Paps was just beaming at him with pride, so he couldn't bring himself to get too annoyed. “Hey, Paps. Could you help me back down now?”

Paps raised an eyebrow at him, smirking slightly, hand on his hip, “You can't get down?”

“Not really.”

“Neyehehehehehehe! That's just sad, Sans. Jump down, scaredy bones!”

Sans looked down. The hard floor looked really far away. “Eh, maybe not.”

“Sans, sheesh, talk about a lack of effort! I'm sure if properly motivated, you could get down yourself! Would you find a way down for, say , a plate of my homemade spaghetti?”

Sans knew there were several monsters who would run to join him up here on the sink to escape Papyrus's cooking. Did him already being up here count as some sort of accomplishment? “I'd want some, Paps but I still think I wouldn't be able to get down.” Sans said, swinging his legs a bit, his heels kicked the cabinet door with little thumps. “Well, if I'm stuck up here forever, at least that means I don't have to go to work today.”

“Oh my god, Sans!” Papyrus shouted, eyes bulging in frustration, “Can't you get anything done? You can't skip work because you’re trapped on a sink!”

“Can't be helped bro.” Sans said, making a show of laying back to fall asleep, “Guess I'll take a nap since I'm up here too.”

Papyrus pinched the bridge between his eye-sockets, “Uggggh. Really? Is there no low you won't stoop too? Honestly, Sans, there's really nothing that can be done for someone like you! A total lost cause. You're lucky to have a brother so willing to take care of you!”

“I know bro,” Said Sans, closing his eyes, “Night.”

“Auuuugh! Alright, alright, come on you lazybones! I've got you.” Papyrus said, reaching to grab him. Sans accommodatingly leaned forward, Paps grabbing him from his hips and pulling him down. Papyrus let gravity do a lot of the work, and for a moment it felt like falling, but his brother had him and Sans could feel the control in the descent, so he was pretty relaxed.

Then, half way down, Papyrus stopped.

Sans legs dangled in the air, as he wondered what had happened. The look on Papyrus's face was...strange. Startled. Sans was very, very good at reading expressions, and if he had to put a description to it, he would say that Papyrus had just surprised himself with some strange, new thought. One that had taken him somewhere else, somewhere distant.

Distant, but still looking at Sans with an intensity that made him feel exposed.

Weird.

“Everything okay there, bro?” Sans asked.

Papyrus blinked. Something new had come into the expression. Sans couldn't describe it. He didn't know what it was.

“Say 'thank you'.” Papyrus said. The tone matched the face, in that it completely baffled Sans. What was happening? It wasn't anger, but...it seemed....close to it? Like it could be anger, if pushed wrong. Sharp. Like...that silent moment between when a guarddog was growling, and when it had decided it was going to bite.

He had to be reading this wrong. This was Papyrus. Sans shook off his disturbed, clearly wrong fears. “Huh?” He asked, genuinely having forgotten what it was Papyrus had just said, so focused as he was on the way Papyrus had said it.

The grip on his hips tightened. Not painful. Just tighter.

“Say, 'Thank you Papyrus, for letting me down from the sink'.” Papyrus insisted, that little strange sharp something in his tone. Sans legs dangled. This was easily the tenth of thousandth of times Sans had been picked up by Papyrus in their short lives. He was small and Papyrus was tall and Sans had never been too embarrassed to let Papyrus help him when it came to the height of things, in a town that tended to cater more to large, mammal-based monsters then small skeletons. Sometimes Papyrus just held him because he was very happy, or Sans was very sleepy. Sometimes he didn't know why Papyrus held him, just he would suddenly find himself in his brother's arms and stay there for awhile until Papyrus inevitably put him down. He had never worried about this before. It had never felt unsafe before.

Before.

“Uh, okay.” Sans said, still absolutely certain he was misreading this whole thing. Regardless of what was happening right now, it was Papyrus. Hell, his brother probably thought this was just a funny jape. Not a great jape. Bad japes happened sometimes. Still, probably best to let this be done. “Thanks for letting me down from the sink, bro.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

For a weird, unsettling moment, the potential of something happened.

Then Papyrus's face lit up, beaming a 30watt smile at Sans, all that strangeness from before gone. Sans feet connected with the floor, and the smaller monster felt a certain level of relief as Papyrus let him go. “No worries, brother! I will always look after you! You can count on me, The Great Papyrus!”

“Heh. I know.” Sans said, grinning back at him. The moment was gone, and already Sans was starting to feel kind of stupid about how badly that had frightened him. It had obviously been a joke. A shitty joke, but hey, they couldn't all be winners. He knew that better than anyone.

The rest of the day was utterly normal. If Sans felt a little less comfortable being picked up by Papyrus, he barely let himself feel it, and never told anyone.

-

In the box in Grillbys hands was a burger, fries, and a bottle of ketchup. He wasn't sure what to call it. A 'get better' gift? A 'we're thinking of you' present?

A 'you said something really odd to me once about keeping an eye out in case you disappeared and even though I feel silly now I need an excuse to come by and make sure nothing bad has happened'...care package?

Grillby didn't know. All he knew was that Sans had been in his house for about two months and that the bartender should have probably checked on him after the first few weeks.

But Grillby didn't really know what he was looking for, or what he should be on the lookout for. Despite seeing each other almost daily, he and Sans were only 'friends' in the way you called an acquaintance you had known a very long time a 'friend'. They didn't hang out, Grillby never spoke much about anything at the bar, and Sans kept things pretty close to chest, even after his fourth or fifth bottle. Sure, they talked. Sans would talk about his brother and Grillby would talk about his sister and his niece , or they might discuss the latest MTT shows, or crack a few jokes, and a thousand other small conversations...but nothing that really gave Grillby too many clues as to what Sans might have been afraid of, that day he had come and asked the barkeep to watch out for him in case he went missing.

And as each day went by and Sans was still a no-show, Grillby felt more and more uncomfortable, certain that he had messed up somewhere.

The problem was, was that Sans wasn't actually 'missing'. Everyone knew where Sans was. Sans was in his room, in what his brother had earnestly claimed was mere sickness of the body, but the popular rumor having become sickness of the mind. Sans was a melancholy sort of fellow, not overly social and prone to long silences, and due to the nature of the monsters connection with their soul, depression could be a very, very deadly disease. Papyrus had been seen buying items from the market or returning from the hotlands with packages specifically designed to help monsters on the brink of Falling Down, and when pushed enough about it Papyrus had finally admitted it wasn't so much that Sans wasn't so much too sick to leave his room as “Uh, well...w-won't. He just...he just won't.”

The town was not a stranger to this sort of thing. They had seen monsters fall before. God knows the Snowdrake household had dealt with it for a long time before the end had come, and just like Sans, Miss Snowdrake had eventually refused to leave her house, or be seen by other monsters. And she had up to 4HP before finally reclusing herself from the world. Sans, who everyone knew had been surviving on 1 since he had shown up...

When Grillby knocked on the door and Papyrus had eventually opened it, the fire-element monster felt like an asshole, an intruder into an already stressful situation as Papyrus looked at him with a strained smile and tired eyes. “Oh, Grillby? Hello! What can I, Papyrus, do for you this fine morning?”

“....................” Papyrus waited. Everyone in Snowden knew how long this could take. “............I brought something for Sans. I know he has been down lately. I hoped something familiar might lift his spirits.”

The look of surprised delight spread quickly over the young skeletons face, clearly pleased to see someone wanting to well-wish his brother, but there was a tired sense to it that informed Grillby that this was probably a lost cause. “Oh, Grillby, that is so kind! I mean, Sans probably shouldn't be eating something with that much grease in it, uh, no offense! But still, it might cheer him up! Maybe it'll even convince him to come down! I'm sure he'd love to see you! Would you wait here for a moment?”

Grillby nodded. He didn't know what he had been expecting to find. Sans wasn't missing. He was just sad. Hell, the message from before had probably been Sans way of trying to tell someone he was on the verge of Falling, and of course his brother had noticed and done something before the oblivious barkeep had even started to think about it. Grillby felt like an idiot.

He watched from the front door Papyrus knock on Sans door upstairs, asking if Sans was up. When there was no response, Papyrus gave Grillby an embarrassed look before holding up his finger in a 'one minute' gesture, opening the door and going in.

“Come on, Sans, get up you lazy bones. Grillby's here, and he's brought you a very nice present! The least you could do is go thank him for it.”

-

Sans stared at Papyrus, almost uncomprehending. One of Papyrus's hands was on the top of his skull, rubbing it soothingly.

The other was gripped tightly around his wrist bone, bending it painfully.

“Sans, please, you can come down and say hello to Grillby, can't you?” Papyrus said loudly, clearly. Then, in a normal tone of voice, he said to Sans, “Don't jostle your chain. Don't bang on the floor. Whatever I do to you won't be nearly as bad as what I would have to do to him.”

Another painful twist to his wrist. Sans felt tears well up in his eyes, though the truth was more than anything, more than fear or sorrow or anger, what he was experiencing was just dumb, stupid surprise. This moment was too surreal. Papyrus had hinted at pain before, and had knocked him unconscious twice. But to actually stand there and bend his bones to the point of breaking? He couldn't actually believe it was happening.

Papyrus sighed. Loudly. Clearly. “Okay, Sans, okay. I won't make you, of course not. Maybe we'll go down to the bar later to thank him, alright? Sure, Sans.”

Papyrus moved the hand from Sans head to his cheek. He clutched it tight. His eyes were glassy. “I will kill him.” Papyrus said, “If you do anything. Anything at all. I will kill him.”

Another squeeze at his wrist. Then Papyrus dropped it, stood up, and walked back outside, closing the door behind him. He shut off the light behind him.

Sans clutched the bruising wrist to his chest, staring out into the darkness. Uncomprehending.

-

Papyrus closed the door gently behind, rubbed the back of his neckbone awkwardly, and then headed downstairs. Grillby was still waiting by the door, holding the gift.

“I'm sorry, Grillby, Sans isn't...he hasn't been doing well.” Papyrus said, softly, taking the gift from Grillby, “Thank you though. It's...it's really nice to know that you were thinking of him. Maybe I can convince him to come visit soon. Going to the bar used to relax him. Maybe it still can?”

That note of desperation, of false hope, almost broke the bartender's heart. He should have come earlier, regardless of the message. The burden of Sans illness had clearly taken a toll on his brother.

“..............................” Grillby started, “....................he can come by whenever he likes, on the house. And please, if you ever need anything, Papyrus, do not ever hesitate to ask. You're a good brother for helping him through this. I'm sure Sans can recover.”

Papyrus grinned weakly at him, a shininess to his eye sockets that suggest he might cry soon. “T-thanks! It's....it helps a lot to hear that.”

The two said their goodbyes, Grillby leaving, sad and worried for different reasons now. How do you help a person in that situation? What could you possibly do? As terrible as it was for monsters who had lost use of their HP and fallen, seeing the effect it had on their loved ones was always terrible, and Grillby felt helpless in the face of Papyrus's pain. Probably best to leave him be unless he sought his help. Goodness knows the element didn't want to add anything else to the skeletons problems.

Papyrus threw Grillby's food in the trash, and brought that trash to the dumpster himself.

And threw it over the edge.

-

It was a dark, nonsense dream. There was no substance to it, no real imagery that made any sort of sense. All he knew was the sensation of feeling trapped, of feeling tied down. His neck hurt, like someone was trying to snap the bones through sheer grip alone. He tried to scream, and couldn't. He tried to see who was attacking him, but couldn't. He tried to move, but couldn't.

He thrashed, violently, attempting to throw his unknown attacker off, attempting to get his attacker off, attempting to push Papyru-

When he finally fell off the bed, it took several seconds of Sans struggling against the wrapping of the chain, the long metal having accidentally curled around his arms and chest in his sleep, as it sometimes did. As he stopped thrashing, the pain in his neck lightened, and Sans realized in his glaze of terror that he had been pulling at the collar in his struggle with the chain. He could feel a rubbed rawness in his neck bones that suggested he had scratched at the surface to the point of irritation, and slower, more careful struggling informed him that he might have actually chipped bone in some places. He felt something warm and small trickle onto his collarbone and knew that the 'weird red who-the-fuck-knows', as Alphy's had once officially labeled it, was seeping out of the small wounds. It stung.

Sans stared miserably at the blackness of his room, it likely not even close to 'lights on' time. Getting out of his accidental metal wrapping would take some rolling around, and San's wasn't even remotely up to it. His heart was still thumping wildly in his ribcage, and inexplicably Sans suddenly felt his eye sockets dripping with heavy, humiliated tears. What a stupid position to be in. God, it was so stupid. Sometimes, Sans would go days at a time without thinking once about his collar or the metal chain. Sometimes, if he was careful, he could forget he had it on entirely, and feel somewhat normal.

And then shit like this would happen and it was just...just...

The door opened, and Sans flinched at the sudden rush of light as the switch on the side of the room that he couldn't get to was flipped. “Sans?” Said his brother, who sounded tired and irritated, Papyrus moving around the room to the side of the bed that his brother had fallen off of, “I heard a bang. What on earth are you doing in here?”

“Trying to see if I jump off the bed hard enough, if the chain will ricochet me around the room, like a bungee cord.” Sans wanted to seethe sarcastically. Instead his mouth made a small 'hiss' sound as he expelled air in a small force, the small angry sound taken away somewhat by the small, uneven gasps that came from heaving sobs. He was so fucking mad right now.

“Oh Sans, look at you.” Papyrus sighed, his every word dripping in exasperation, as if his brother being half strangled by a chain connected to the wall and sobbing helplessly on the floor was just Sans way of being 'difficult'. “How hard is it exactly to just lay still in bed? You certainly have enough practice at it, this should be a piece of cake for you!”

“I want ice cream,” Sans tried to say. “I've wanted nothing but ice cream for weeks and I don't understand why I can't just walk out of the house and go get some, Paps. I don't understand how that became a thing I can't do.”

The only sound was more wet, hiccuping breaths.

“Alright, alright, lazy bones. I, the Great Papyrus, will help you out of this mess you've made. Come on now. Allyoop!” Papyrus said, putting his hands gently at both sides of Sans and pushing/pulling the small skeleton upright, so that Sans was now sitting with his back to the bed, still hopelessly tangled. Sans glared at the floor, teeth chattering as his whole body shook from the sheer, righteous fury that pulled in his stomach and bubbled into his chest. He didn't know when the last time he had been this mad was. He wasn't entirely certain he had ever felt this strongly pissed off before this moment. This was so humiliating.

“Aw, brother, what on earth has gotten into you?” Papyrus asked, a small tinge of concern in his voice as his hands, free from the red gloves he always wore with his 'battle body', wiped some of the tear streaks staining Sans cheekbones, Sans fury growing hotter with every gentle touch. The more Papyrus looked at him the more Sans wanted to lash out, to kick at him, to bite. The more he didn't do these things, the heavier the sobbing became, till it felt like his ribs were bruising sheer from the stress of his heaving sobs.

He imagined he must have made a disturbing visual image, his face wrapped in anguish as he rasped out noiseless cries, because Papyrus had yet to put him back on the bed, or to stop to unwrap him. His brother had yet to do anything past uselessly wiping a few of the tears away, actually, just staring at him as Sans allowed the helpless rage to lick and burn at his soul. He looked up at his brother, wanting to see himself in his brother's expression, see what a miserably, fucked up mess his brother had crea-...

...oh.

oh.

…

That wasn't unsettled repulsion in his brother's gaze. That wasn't what his brother was seeing. Papyrus had...Papyrus looked...

Sans wouldn't grace the look with a description.

Sans eyes dropped, the rage gone almost immediately, buried under his own desperate need to suddenly be mentally somewhere else, emotionally anywhere else. This didn't matter. He wouldn't let this hurt him. Nothing could hurt him if San's didn't let it.

He tried to think of a tiled island surrounded by water. He tried to think of the fish. He tried to think of the dra-

The fantasy, weak and half made as it was, immediately dissipated as Papyrus reached out to wipe more tears away, his fingers lingering where they wiped as his thumb bone gently wiped beneath Sans eyes. “You look so tired,” Papyrus said softly, a little breathless laugh as he admired the image in front of him, feeling the shivering beneath the tips of his fingers, feeling...a small thrill of excitement at it. “I've given you nothing but all the time in the world to sleep, and yet I don't think you've ever looked so tired before, Sans, so grumpy. It's...kind of cute, when you're like this.”

Sans had gone still, his brain feverishly flushing all information out, his thought process going blank. If he emptied himself out, whatever Paps did next wouldn't hurt. This wouldn't hurt. He could make this not hurt. He'd make himself nothing. You can't hurt nothing.

San's heart broke when Papyrus kissed him.

“Paps, I'm in so much pain.” Sans couldn't say, as Papyrus placed another gentle 'clink' against his forehead. Another on his cheek. Another on his neck. “Bro, I'm literally crying so much that it hurts to breath. Please don't do this to me. I'm not ready. I'm not fucking ready for this right now. Bro please.”

Sans wished he had his jacket on. He had kept faithful to Papyrus's insistence that he couldn't wear to bed anymore, and it wasn't like Papyrus couldn't have taken it off anyway now that he was doing...this. But Sans desperately wished he had even that small obstacle between Paps fingers and the inner side of Sans ribs. Pointed fingers rubbed gently against the solid lines of his rib cage. Amid that cage, dampened, his soul hid from the intrusion. Papyrus's practice of blue magic would make the extraction of Sans soul effortless. Sans hoped Papyrus wouldn't take that route. He didn't HAVE to take that route. Even if...even if he...

oh god this was actually happening oh god oh god he needed to not be here right now.

Papyrus kissed his collarbone, and then went up to again clink at the space between Sans eye sockets. Taking the opportunity of Papyrus actually looking at him, Sans desperately shook his head No. He tried to express through his eyes how unhappy he was with this. He tried to make Papyrus see.

Papyrus took his free hand to still Sans head and kissed the spot anyway. So Sans kicked him in the chest.

It was a weak kick, and Papyrus's body didn't even move back, but it seemed enough to surprise the larger monster. Papyrus looked at him, seemingly stunned, but at the same time sort of...vacant. Like he had awaken from a dream he hadn't entirely escaped yet. He looked from Sans tear streaked, furious features, to the chain that still pinned his arms to his side, down to the leg that had kicked him. He seemed confused. He seemed like he was thinking very, very hard about something.

Maybe...maybe Papyrus was finally realizing he was going too far. San's felt his heart flutter with a hope he hadn't realized he could possess anymore as Papyrus removed his hand from his ribs. Maybe Papyrus was finally starting to see how-

Papyrus's face went slack, a peaceful, serene blankness coming over him. He smiled soothingly at Sans. It was the scariest thing Sans had ever seen.

Papyrus, in one quick, strong motion, grabbed both sides of San's ankle bone, and snapped it in two.

-

The fish swam around the tiled island, and nibbled at his toes.

-

San's couldn't scream.

-

Then, unexpectedly, all the toes on his right side disappeared.

-

San's body seized violently.

-

Annoyed, Sans told the fish to give him his foot back, but the fish swallowed it whole and swam away.

-

His one HP stood as steady as it ever did, and Sans wished it wouldn't, because the pain was breathtaking, and the red was everywhere.

-

Sans looked up, huffing in annoyance, and saw just in time a bit of the dragon. Huh. He had always thought the dragon seemed green.

-

It was everywhere, it was everywhere, how much could he lose before this stopped?!

-

Now he thought it looked kinda red.  
-

When Sans came to, he didn't recognize the hallway outside of his room until Papyrus had run through it and was already heading down the stairs. Even when he did recognize it, he didn't think much of it. While a moment before he might have been thrilled to see the other side of his bedroom door, for right now his mind felt muted and fuzzy, his bones...hollow feeling. Cold. Was this what cold felt like? Temperature wasn't really a thing for the skeleton-based monsters, but based on what he knew of it, this empty ache in his violently trembling bones seemed the closest he could imagine to feeling true chill. Where were they going?

“I just don't understand how you always manage to do these things, how do you manage to always RUIN EVERYTHING-”

Sans closed his eyes, feeling deeply apathetic to Papyrus's fury at him. He couldn't remember what he had done wrong. It must have been something, that Papyrus felt he needed to take him out of the room. Maybe Papyrus had decided none of this was worth it? Maybe Sans had finally gotten Papyrus to read one of his notes?

He noticed, almost idly, the extreme, biting pain that appeared to be coming from somewhere in his legs, though the pain was so enormous that Sans couldn't even begin to guess which spot. The pain wasn't really bothering him. He couldn't focus on it. He was struggling to focus at all.

A sharp turn at the bottom of the stairs informed Sans that they were likely heading to the bathroom located beneath the stairwell of the house. The bathroom was a ceramic, tiled thing that held inside it a tub with a shower set up, a mirror, and lots of drawers for various things that skeletons could use to clean themselves. Not the type of monster to get dirty that often by themselves, they showered only to get the dirt off from the outside and clean off the ketchup stains from their teeth. Sans hadn't showered since his first day locked up, his trapped lifestyle being pretty clean by itself. He had almost forgotten they had this room, and wondered what Papyrus hoped would help in here.

Unbidden, the memory of Papyrus's still, smiling face and the sudden grip of his hands sprung out at Sans, frightening and surreal. Had he dreamt that? That couldn't have happened. Papyrus wouldn't have...

His brother wouldn't have done a lot of things. Sans closed his eyes and pretended to himself that he wasn't deeply afraid that he would look down and see his foot wasn't attached anymore. He clung to his apathy and to his numbness, the only thing that could save him right now. He had to be nothing. You couldn't hurt nothing.

He kept his eyes firmly closed as Papyrus placed him, not entirely gently, into the tub, rambling to himself and running around the bathroom, opening drawers, looking for something. With his eyes closed, Sans noticed he smelled something that made him think of iron, and wondered if he was still dripping the red stuff. Alphys had tried to explain to him and Papyrus what the red stuff was once. She had studied it and its properties and compared it to every note she had and had come up with 'It's definitively synthetic. I think it was meant to be like human blood, but whoever made it either never finished or just straight up made it wrong. I'm pretty sure it's the only thing keeping that your one HP from giving out on you, Sans. It's basically your life. Try to, uh...keep it inside you, okay?”

That had been three years ago, when they were new and trying to get a place in the world. Dr. Alphy's had been very kind, had helped them get started and been a friend, before she just stopped leaving her lab one day, stopped talking to people completely. When was the last time Sans had even seen her? God, not since last years Christmas party. Oh, what a mess...

Sans attempt to distract himself fell to an abrupt end when large hands shook at his shoulders violently, something loud being shouted above him. Sans opened his eyes (which proved a genuine struggle), looking up blearily to see the not all that clear picture of his brother looking down at him, concerned etched deeply into his face. He was clearly talking, but Sans couldn't really hear what he was saying, everything just a rush of noise. Papyrus looked afraid.

Good. Let his brother live in his world for awhile. Maybe it would teach him some empathy, something Sans had clearly failed to do (when though when had he failed when had this all happened why was this happening?) in the last few years that he had been so desperately trying to guide this grown child. He and Papyrus had been so -different-, when they had first woken up. Sans nothing but reservations and suspicions and patience, Papyrus outgoing and welcoming and ambitious. And childlike. So damn childlike. Sans had wanted a thousand times to put a striped shirt onto Papyrus, to tell the Underground 'No, see? You have to be gentle with this one, you have to teach him; he's only little'. He had once, under the disguise of a joke, even asked Papyrus if he would rather they assume he was a child for awhile, send him to school to learn, let him make friends with the other kids in town, rather than trying to do so with all the adults who didn’t understand him or how to talk to him. “It's not like we really know how old we are anyway, so why not? I'll be the adult and do the boring stuff like pay the bills, and you can be a kid for awhile, Bro.” Sans had said, half joking, half pleading, knowing in his soul that Papyrus needed more time to grow up.

Papyrus had looked at him, genuinely confused, and said with utter sincerity of belief, “But I have to be the adult. I'm bigger than you.”

And that had been the end of the conversation. Oh, he should have insisted. He should have told Papyrus no, you need more time. But Papyrus had clung to the idea of being the older one, the responsible one. Papyrus had liked being the one in control, and Sans had let him. He hadn't said anything when Papyrus had changed the kitchen sinks height, even though Sans could never hope to reach the faucet now. He had allowed Papyrus to recruit him into sentry work, even though the pay was worst then what Sans had been making at the hotel and Sans had to compensate by basically making a secret Hot Dog Stand Empire using the sentry stations. God, he had even let Papyrus start deciding when he could and couldn't hang out at Grillby's. And this was fucking before Papyrus had started telling him who he could be friends with and what he was allowed to eat at night.

'I really messed this up.' Sans thought sleepily to himself. Papyrus was doing something with his leg, and it hurt, but Sans couldn't really register it. He was mostly sleepy and sad. Like usual, really, 'I really, really messed up. This is my fault. Who's surprised that Sans the Skeleton makes a shitty parent? Me.' Thought Sans sadly, 'I'm surprised. I never thought it was going to go like this. I thought we were so much better than this.'

'Am I Falling Down?' Sans wondered sleepily. Papyrus poked him with something that stung a bit. 'Is this how that happens? Is this what Falling feels like?'

Somewhere, he smelled something burn. Pain flashed, distant and unfamiliar.

'Falling isn't so bad.' He decided, 'It was a lot like going to-'

The distant pain became less so.

-

The collar was still on. Sans still couldn't make a sound. But Papyrus still jumped backwards when Sans body suddenly convulsed, his mouth wide open in a wordless wail of anguish. Papyrus trembled and shook as he watched the medicine take its effect, and wondered if he had just killed his little brother.

When Papyrus had gone to Alphys weeks ago, saying he was worried that Sans depression was finally stronger than the red stuff that kept him going, saying he thought Sans might Fall soon, Alphys had given him a needle full of the red stuff, saying a concentrated dose of it would be enough to “Uh, kind of jump start him? Like a car, you know? If he seems like he's falling, give him this and it should be enough to keep him going past the breaking point. But, uh, Papyrus, you really should bring him in to see me.”

Papyrus had repeated, for what seemed like the thousandth time to the thousandth person, that Sans refused to leave his room or have guests, and Alphys had just nodded sadly, begging Papyrus to see if he could change Sans mind, because “Your brother sounds like he's in, um, r-real trouble, Papyrus. He needs help.”

Sans didn't need help. Sans needed to behave. Everything would be fine if Sans stopped ruining it.

Papyrus stared at Sans, uncertain what to do, as his brother tried to scream and writhed in the tub. This was better, right? Better than the lost, vacant stare his brother had been sporting before. Dr. Alphys had said the serum would be enough to keep him going. Papyrus had to trust she knew what she was talking about.

Tearing his eyes away from Sans screaming skull, Papyrus forced himself to once again pay some attention to the ankle. Oh god Sans had really made a mess of this. Papyrus had taken wrappings and bandages and had managed, very skillfully, if he thought so himself, to tourniquet the ending of each bone so that all that filthy red would stop flowing out. But now he had the dilemma of deciding what to do with the piece of his foot that was still attached, allowing Sans foot to to just barely hang onto its original holding point. It was disgusting and nauseating, to leave it still dangling there, but Papyrus wasn't sure if breaking it off entirely might be the the push that finally kills his brother. He wanted to take it off, but the surety he had before, that complete and utter belief that -this- was the correct thing to do that he had when he grabbed his brothers ankle in the first place, had left him. It had all seemed so clear, so perfect, in that moment. Sans had tried to hurt him with a part of himself that Sans didn't need. If he couldn't be trusted with that part of himself...

It had all been so easy.

Now not so much. Now Papyrus was a bundle of nerves and uncertainty, wishing he didn't have to be the one to deal with this, and resenting Sans for putting him in this situation to begin with. Didn't Sans understand that taking care of both him and the house and his work was hard enough without adding this sort of thing to it? The small skeleton could be just so -self centered-, it drove Papyrus crazy. Why had Sans kicked him? All he had done was....all he had done was....

Papyrus's thoughts, which were very, very used to jumping incredible hoops these days, struggled to explain to him exactly what it was he had been doing without using words like 'incredibly horny', 'completely helpless', or the big one, 'rape'.

It took a minute, but eventually the tireless workers of Papyrus's brain churned out a scenario that didn't make him hate himself.

Sans had looked sad, and Papyrus had just been trying to make him feel better. He had looked at him with those big, tired eye sockets of his, just the perfect picture of misery as he, somewhat comically, had managed to tie himself up with his own chain, all pouty and miserable...it had been so adorable. His little brother, needing big brothers help just to sleep, of all things, needing big brother Papyrus to pick him up, coddle him, kiss him, kiss him again, make him feel good, feel better, make him-

Papyrus flinched, his thoughts coming to a grinding halt as they came closer and closer to the 'bad' thoughts. The thoughts that kept Papyrus up at night, every night, his soul reaching out, his body yearning, everything in Papyrus just pleading with him to do it just do it he can't say no he can't say anything HE CAN'T STOP YOU.

Papyrus shivered. It wasn't a distressed shiver.

It had been perfect, for a moment. Sans had needed him. Papyrus had been there. And then, out of -nowhere-, San's had attacked him.

It was Sans own fault, really. And if he thought Papyrus was going to be the one cleaning up all that red off the floor, boy, did he have another thing coming! It had gotten everywhere, all over the house! Papyrus, admittedly, probably should have expected that, San's biology being all sorts of messed up, but in his head he had just sort of imagined the bone...popping off. Like one of Papyrus's plastic action figures. Pop a limb off, pop it back on, no problem.

Sans was making this more difficult than it had to be, Papyrus was sure of it.

Deciding to leave the foot for now, he was back to Sans upper half, his brother hyperventilating at the bottom of the tub. Which was good. Breathing was good. Sure, those breaths looked way too quick and way too deep, but they were still breaths. “That's good, yes Sans, breath. Breath it all out.” Papyrus encouraged, wondering mildly if he ought to take the collar off, its restraint looking painful against the the pressure of Sans heaving breaths, but, well...Papyrus really didn't feel like being Blue, for one thing, and for another, he really didn't need Sans to start making puns right about now.

Or tell me he doesn't want to be here. Or tell me he hates me. Or beg me to stop.

It'd be kind of cute if he begged me to stop.

LET’S MAKE HIM BEG ME TO ST-

Papyrus shook the thoughts, grinding his teeth nervously. He needed to get this under control. Was this under control? Sans had stopped leaking red, after all, and he didn't appear to be Falling anymore. So....another job done well by the Great Papyrus?

It didn't feel like this had gone well...

…

It was because Sans was dirty. That's why this all felt wrong. He was covered in the red stuff, and was doing that weird 'melty' thing their bones did sometimes whenever they were really stressed. Disgusting. He needed to be cleaned up. That would solve this whole thing.

The clothes had to come off first. He was only wearing shorts and a pair of socks, but they were all a lost cause, and Papyrus would likely be throwing them away as soon as he was done here. Papyrus ignored the way Sans jerked away from him as he dragged off the shorts, and the socks then with them. Papyrus was somewhat surprised to discover that Sans wore boxers, which was really more of a mammal-based monster thing. He supposed Sans did it for that extra bit of padding, and after deciding that Sans (looked way cuter in them) would probably prefer they remain on, he left them there. He reached over Sans, grabbing the bath plug on the other side, and slid it in before turning on the faucet, ignoring each flinch and spasm from the creature below him, who didn't know what he needed right now anyway. Papyrus could do this. He could take care of Sans. He had been taking care of Sans his whole life, this was no problem.

Sans shivered and squirmed below him as Papyrus let the water rise, placing a soothing hand on Sans forehead, trying his best to remind his brother that so long as Papyrus was around, he was safe. “It's okay,” Papyrus reassured, rubbing soothing circles into Sans skull. Sans was crying again, but that was normal. Papyrus paid it no mind. “Oh, wow, that was scary though, wasn't it? It goes to show, you should listen to me. I...” Papyrus hesitated, trying to think of exactly how Sans had disobeyed him, without saying that Sans had basically tried to fight him off. Both of those things could not exist at the same time. Not in Papyrus's world. He thought about it for awhile before saying, “I told you not to horse around in your room so much. That's how you got that chain tangled around you. I always knew there was going to be consequences. Now look at your poor foot.”

Papyrus did look at it, and his stomach squeezed. It did not look any better, floating slightly in the riding water. “You've only done this to yourself, you know.” Papyrus continued bravely on, still stroking at his brothers skull. The water was turning red as it washed away at Sans, who was still laying flat on his back in the tub, either unwilling or unable to reposition himself into a sitting position. Which was fine, as Papyrus liked Sans on his back, looking up at him. Even if Sans wasn't looking at him at all, and indeed seemed to be turning his head to look at the height of the rising water.

Perhaps Sans was nervous about his head being submerged when the water rose high enough? Papyrus couldn't understand why. It took ages for the brothers to hold their breath long enough for their body to start telling them they needed to breath. Sans wasn't likely to drown in their own bathtub, and Papyrus felt a little annoyed at the smaller monster for ignoring him to even consider it. Hadn't Papyrus basically just saved his brother's’ life? Didn't that warrant him at least some acknowledgment? Sans was just so selfish.

Perhaps it was immature, but when the water rose above San's head and Sans tried to jerk upright, Papyrus kept a hand on Sans ribs, and held him there.

“I was just trying to help, Sans.” Papyrus said, feeling a sudden flush of anger. Usually it was hard for Papyrus to really express his feelings to the younger skeleton, his hurt and his fears and his angers, because Sans would look at him with that sweet, soft face, always rimmed with gray fading as his bones went brittle due to Sans exhaustion, and it was all Papyrus could do to not just sweep Sans into his arms and just kiss each little hurt away. But, while Papyrus could still see Sans beneath the water, the waves, the slight skewing of proportion, the sort of 'otherness' to his brothers appearance in the water below...Papyrus felt less and less a need to hold back as he leaned some weight into his arm, putting pressure onto Sans ribs. Sans tried to pull Papyrus's arm off him, his small bony fingers trying to imbed and scratch at his own bigger, stronger arm bones: Papyrus ignored this and carried on.

“You're too closed off, did you know that?” Papyrus demanded, his voice rising above the sound of the splashing water as Sans thrashed, “You never let me in. You just shuffle about, like you have the world on your shoulder, but you're never just willing to let me help you. Do you see what I've had to resort to, just to keep you from throwing yourself at dangerous strangers? Do you think I LIKE doing this to you?” Papyrus asked, ignoring the fact that seeing Sans trapped and helpless and with nowhere to run brought him more joy and thrill then any promise of popularity or success ever had. Sans struggle was getting weaker. Papyrus highly doubted Sans was out of air by this point, as it was stated before, skeletons didn't have to breath that much. But perhaps the smaller skeleton was realizing that he was acting foolish, just wasting energy and time.

Or maybe he hadn't realized that everything he was doing was pointless, and he was just simply being lazy? How would Papyrus ever know? “You never let me in!” Papyrus said, shaking the body within his grip slightly. “I just want to know what you're thinking!”

Sans had gone still in his hands. There was, of course, one easy way to see what Sans was thinking.

Papyrus hesitated. It was...incredibly invasive, what he was thinking about doing. Utterly invasive. Dominating, even. The absolute closest any number of monsters could get to actually being one...

Papyrus's body yearned. He was practically drooling from the desire. He hadn't turned the faucet off, and the water was starting to spill over the side, but he didn't care. It would only be for a moment. He was just trying to understand his brother better. It was necessary.

Do it.

Touch him.

Papyrus leaned his other hand into the water, letting his hand linger just outside Sans ribcage, where his other hand was firmly placed, keeping him still. After a small force of magic, Sans soul exposed itself, already turned blue. Sans, jerking violently, tried to push Papyrus's hands away from it in the blindness of the water, but Papyrus was much, much stronger then him.

Sans soul was soft. Its luminescence flesh yielded almost doughfully against his fingertips, and he felt Sans body spasm as he pushed down, Sans reaction causing feelings of excitement and power to flutter though Papyrus, urging him to go further. The very culmination of his being pounded within his own ribcage, and using the power of his own soul, he reached out to Sans soul with his grip.

He felt Sans, body and soul. It was like stepping in thick air and breathing in nothing but him. He felt the grip of his own hand on his own chest, could feel the water rushing between Sans bones and the tub solidly boxing Sans in. He felt...fear. Fear over everything. A powerful rush of fury, a trickle of hurt, but fear, utter terror, won out over all. He was injured, and drowning, and Papyrus was doing a s o u l m e r g e ? ? !

w h a t a r e y o u d o i n g ? !

s t o p !

If you had asked Papyrus, during a normal state of mind, how he would have felt about Sans being terrified of him, he would have looked aghast at the very idea. He would have insisted he would stop whatever he was doing to help his brother, who would clearly be needing him by then. He would never, ever, purposefully make his brother afraid, because that's not what good brothers do.

But Sans fear was INTOXICATING.

BEAUTIFUL.

YOU'RE SO BEAUTIFUL.

CAN YOU FEEL ME SANS?

s t o p i t s t o p i t s t o p i t !

Sans body squirmed and struggled against him, and his soul desperately tried to distance itself from him. But so long as Papyrus kept his grip, neither soul nor body could escape him. Sans couldn't stop him from taking anything. It was...incredibly arousing. Papyrus felt a sudden familiar stranger appear, hanging from his pelvis area, and knew his body was trying to get in on the action. Sex did not require a soul merge for skeleton monsters, nor did a soul merge require sex. But the two together...

Papyrus had never experienced it first hand before. But every bone in his body was screaming at him that it would be the best thing he had ever felt in his whole lonely life.

In the exact same way that Papyrus could feel himself above the tub water, peacefully enjoying the feeling of Sans beneath him, he could also feel Sans side of it. The water was everywhere, and Sans couldn't move, couldn't breathe. His throat kept involuntarily swallowing, his magic looking for new oxygen, and each time it did his body would choke, his ribcage trying to clear up the space he desperately, desperately needed for air. Was he going to die like this?

YOU MIGHT.

It wasn't true. At least, Papyrus didn't believe himself. But the thought had come, unbidden, a sweet, mental whisper to Sans, encouraging that line of thought. YOU MIGHT DIE HERE. I MIGHT JUST HOLD YOU DOWN UNTIL YOUR STRUGGLING GOES LIMP, AND FEEL AROUND IN THE DEEPEST PART OF YOUR SOUL UNTIL EVERYTHING FALLS TO DUST. I MIGHT. I MIGHT.

Ooooooh that terror. That terror.

YOU'RE SO BEAUTIFUL.

Then Papyrus urged Sans to hold still. To be compliant. That this would all go better if he would just obey. He felt Sans still, felt his brothers desperate need for all this to end, to do literally anything to get this nightmare to be over. Feeling confident, Papyrus lightened his grip on Sans ribs, in fact pulling Sans up from the water. As Sans heaved long, forceful breaths, Papyrus, keeping a grip on the soul, stood up and stepped into the tub itself, never minding his clothes, positioning himself in between Sans legs. He didn't look at the broken, dangling foot, didn't even think about it, but he could feel the pain from it from Sans soul. He felt Sans bewilderment and then understanding at Papyrus's new position, felt Sans trying to pull himself away from Papyrus and out of the tub before Sans body even really had a chance to move, and Papyrus, moving quickly, once again grabbed Sans ribs and shoved him back under the water.

I SAID NOT TO MOVE, BROTHER.

i m s o r r y i m s o r r y s t o p p l e a s e p l e a s e p a p y r u s s t o p !

Papyrus didn't send any emotions back, but he imagined due to the spike of fear that Sans knew what he was going to do before he did it. Papyrus liked that. He steadied his grip on Sans soul, and squeezed.

Papyrus gasped right along with Sans, who once again choked beneath the water. Soul interactions, and soul merges especially, was all about intention. If the person touching your soul intended to hurt, it would hurt. If it was meant to feel good, it would feel very good, depending on the willpower of the person touching you.

If they wanted you to both hurt and feel good? And had excellent control of their magic, as the Great Papyrus did?

The rush of sensation was STAGGERING.

The pain bit and lapped and rushed through like poison, but the pleasure that rode with it was addictive. Papyrus gasped and panted in the air above, squeezing again through the after effect of the previous one, and Sans shuddered and spasmed below, “O-oh Sans...” Papyrus whined, his arousal pressing eagerly though his pants. Pinning his brother down with Blue magic, he freed his other hand to pull down at his own pants, freeing what Sans had once referred to as their 'ecto-dong' and what they had called it ever since, in the very rare times they ever acknowledged its existence. It had never seemed all that important, before half a year ago. And now...well....

Satisfying this thing in between his legs had driven Papyrus to all sorts of things. And in that moment, he regretted NOTHING.

Taking Sans legs, not bothering to pulls Sans shorts down, Papyrus used one long arm to wrap around his brothers wide thighs, pinning his brother fuller into the water of the long overflowing tub as he bent his brothers spine up and over. He could feel his brothers own 'dong' floating between the loose fabric of the shirt, Sans magic responding to Papyrus's overwhelming lust in the soul merge. Papyrus could barely feel Sans soul now, though, his entire attention so focused on the physical side now that he almost couldn't hear Sans cries, feel his terror and disgust and the hurt or betrayal that ran through it all, all the time.

Papyrus felt the soft outlining of Sans ecto-dong, and keeping Sans leg-bones squeezed close, Papyrus pushed through the pressure, his exposed dick tightly rubbing up and down Sans covered bulge.

oh god papyrus stop please don't do this to me don't do this to me

Papyrus couldn't hear Sans. He didn't care what Sans had to say anyway. He felt both his dick and Sans dick, rubbing along each other, and gripped Sans soul tighter into his palm, projecting vague, wild feelings of passion and pain. Sans's back arched and his hips rubbed up against Papyrus, the undersides of both of their dicks rubbing up and down each other.

Papyrus could have made this easier on himself. He could have forced through his sheer willpower to make Sans give him some sort of opening to enter, some easy passage to play with. But this was Papyrus's first time, and just the feel of humping up and down against Sans body was both an exotic and stupefying feeling to him. He threw his hips against Sans with the same enthusiasm a dog would the leg of a chair. He got out of it the same sensations and pleasures as that of the dog, boundless energy giving him enough movement to stimulate himself the way he had longed for so long to do.

Sans was getting about as much out of it as the leg of wood.

He could have gotten more; he felt Papyrus's sensations the same way Papyrus's felt his. He could have lost himself to Papyrus's lust and excitement, could have gone so far as to 'forget' that Sans was even a person, his whole reality Papyrus. But he was choking. While his soul merged, kneaded and squeezed by Papyrus's will, his body wouldn't let him forget that he was basically under attack. Papyrus wouldn't let him up for air. He tried to scream through the fog of Papyrus's distraction and his own misfiring brain cells that pap pap i need air i cant breath i can't breath!

If Papyrus heard him, his soul didn't react. Sans felt like even his thoughts had become muted, their noise lost in the always filling tub. He thrashed and tried to push Papyrus off him, but Papyrus held strong. He tried to kick him off, and a scream of pain that sliced through both their souls that reminded Sans of his foot. He felt Papyrus shudder on top of him, his pleasure not quite lost by the pain, but startled by it nonetheless.

Okay. If that's what it took.

Doing his best to brace for it and failing, Sans kicked out to the bottom of the tub, and his broken foot connected. For several moments Sans forgot who he was. All he saw was white light and heard a high, sharp whistling sound. Even if he had been above water, he wouldn't have remembered how to breath anyway. Someone was screaming. It wasn't him.

Papyrus pulled Sans head out of the water, shouting at him from the top of his lungs.

“OH MY GOD YOU MANIAC! WHAT WAS THAT? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING! I WAS STILL CONNECTED YOU MORON!”

For a moment Sans still couldn't breath as Papyrus shook him, and he was starting to see dark spots in his vision, his thoughts fuzzy and fading. Then something in his chest hiccuped and he was suddenly puking water that he hadn't realized he had swallowed. It was only when Papyrus shoved him away in an effort to avoid his spewing did Sans realize the merge had been disconnected, likely by Papyrus himself.

His own sexual parts had faded into nothing the second Papyrus had disconnected, all of the lust and arousal having stemmed from Papyrus's soul, leaving Sans with nothing but fear and revulsion (and hatred. He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge it yet. But it was there.).

He was stunned to see the orange glow of Papyrus's arousal still hung high from his brothers pelvis. How could he still want to fuck? That pain had been terrible! What was wrong with him!?

There was something very, very wrong with his brother. He was still aroused, even though Sans was physically getting ill all over the tub, and the tub water was starting to turn red again, Sans clearly having broken the bandages. He was still aroused even as he sweat from the aftermath of having felt that pain for only a moment. He was still aroused even though everything in his eyes said he was furious.

“You're not going to ruin this,” Papyrus said, his voice mean and low, as he reached out to Sans. Sans body jerked backwards, trying to escape him, but there was nowhere to go, and Papyrus had him by the back of his head. His brother sat on the back of his thighs, his dick glowing beneath the water, the orange mixing with the red of the stuff inside of Sans. “You're doing this on purpose. You're making this hard on purpose, Sans. Do you think this is funny? This. Isn't. Funny. Now.” he growled, pulling the back of Sans neck, pulling him down, “Don't come back up till you've finished what you've started!”

Sans was back under the water, what was quickly becoming the place he hated to be the most. Even more then the room. Even more then the chain. He hated the water. He could barely see and his leg was demanding his attention, but Sans felt something hard and veiny rub against his cheek, felt the hard press of Papyrus's unforgiving fingers at the back of his school, and decided done I'm so done fuck this.

Sans closed his eyes and put the damn thing in his mouth.

Summoning the tongue was easy. It was magic he was familiar with, bringing it out for when he actually wanted to taste his food. He sometimes even did it subconsciously, when he was working out some complicated sum and suddenly he found himself chewing on it, a thoughtless habit. Figuring out how to move it around Papyrus's dick was difficult though, especially with the water pressing in around it, each movement causing an involuntary swallow that choked him and filled his stomach to an uncomfortable level.

Sans couldn't feel Papyrus's soul anymore, but the way that Papyrus's body seemed to tense around him gave him the impression that he was doing something right, anyway. He just had to get this done. Get it done and Papyrus would let him back up. Get it done and he could breath again, and maybe this whole nightmare would stop for awhile.

-

Oh...oh there we go. That was more like it!

Papyrus groaned, loudly, a wide, happy smile splitting his face as his member was licked at and swallowed, most of his brothers body beneath the water as Papyrus kept him pinned down. He made a loud, keen noise as erection grew hard, Papyrus, partly by instinct, partly copying things he had seen on Undernet, grinding his hips up and down into Sans face. Sans hands, his little hands, clenched at Papyrus's legs, squeezing tighter the more Papyrus moved, and he could feel after a moment Sans try to pull away from him. Papyrus considered letting him up for air, but knew he needed to keep his word about Sans having to finish before allowing him up. Papyrus had to remain strict. Otherwise he would never be respected.

Oh, oh, besides, he loved the way it felt, Sans struggling against him. Papyrus liked having to use his strength to keep Sans down, liked the strain of it as his dick was licked at and played with. It was fun. It was thrilling.

He could feel the build up and began to drool, “Oh, Sans, finally, finally! Y-you're, oh...so good, good!”

He wanted to grab Sans soul. To share this moment with him. To see the fear. Oh, but he didn't want to break this magic. The inside of his legs felt so good. The magic that laid in his ribs were all up and at attention and ready. Sans seemed to get slower with every passing moment, his stamina gone, his breath probably gone as well. Papyrus didn't care. He held Sans head where it was and thrust up, up into Sans throat. Up past his teeth. Up and up nad...

“O-oH!” Papyrus closed his eyes, his whole body curling around Sans head, the warmth of his cum pulling into the back of Sans tongue. He then hung back for a moment, allowing sans to take a few more shuddering sips at it, wanting it all up. All out. Papyrus sighed, happy and content.

When he let go of Sans head, Sans head shot up; he looked pointedly at nothing, His head was spinning, his thoughts and memories meaningless; and then, perhaps having taken the breath too quickly, he quickly passed out.

Papyrus watched his brother lay limply against the edge of the tub, his face blue. Something translucent spilled out from the edge of his mouth. Papyrus wondered if that was his cum. 

So, so worth it.

-

When Sans woke up, he didn't move for a long time. He was back in his room. The chain was back on. The lights were on, but he was alone.

Everything hurt. His chest ached. His head pounded. His leg...

He didn't want to look down at his foot. But he did.

What he saw was so fucking stupid.

Sans was wearing one of Papyrus's boots. Stuffed in the boot was rags, filling the boot around Sans foot. He could see around the bone above the end of the boot the endings of a wrapping job that Papyrus had apparently tried at. There were speckles of red on the wrapping, like maybe Papyrus hadn't done that great of a job of getting the red stuff to stop flowing before the wrapping had gotten that high.

How was Sans even still fucking alive?

Sans laughed. If he could have voiced that laughter, it would have been loud and obnoxious and mocking.

It was so, so stupid.

He was going to die in this room.

His brother didn't know how to keep him alive. And if LOVE was now apart of their little, heh, 'physical arrangement', then his brother was going to kill him.

Oh god his brother was going to kill him.

Sans laughed.

-

Sans didn't do much anymore. Everytime he tried to open his textbooks, he found it impossible to focus on what had used to hold his attention so well. He would be reading some interesting new concept, and then a flash of memory would blind him, the feeling of his brothers hands on him, a breath that he wasn't certain wouldn't be smothered by water, a dangling limb. The flashes came less often when he wasn't thinking too hard. So he stopped doing that.

His hobbies became more basic. Simple things that he wasn't really good at but didn't tax at his brain too much either. He started singing to himself. He tried to remember words to songs and would spend hours trying to work out in his head if the next line had been 'shooting stars' or' straight to mars'. Eventually he would pick a line that was probably the right one and repeat the song, over and over again, until he had it memorized. Then he would just repeat it for the comfort of repeating it.

Instead of writing formulas or notes, he drew. Poorly. Sometimes he would just draw circles, over and over again, until the paper was almost black from ink. Sometimes he would make drawings inside of the circles. You couldn't see the drawing for the lines, but Sans didn't mind. It was just mindless wrist movement anyway.

Sans slept randomly. He didn't know when he was or wasn't going to fall asleep. He wished he could sleep all the time.

When he was alone he felt drained. Lost.

When he wasn't alone, Papyrus's every move, every word, made him nervous and paranoid. Papyrus didn't talk at all about the bathroom incident. When he talked about his foot, he talked liked Sans had had some sort of accident while messing around. Sans didn't throw things around the room anymore.

He trembled when Papyrus held him in his arms. When he was allowed to, he never had his back to his brother; even when sleeping, he would curl into his brother's chest, just so he could open his eyes and see where Papyrus was whenever he needed to. He didn't sleep well with Papyrus.

If Papyrus noticed his new fear of him, he never said anything.

-

The truth was, Papyrus did notice the fear.

He just liked it, is all.

-

Sans had only been at Grillby's for maybe ten minutes when his brother walked in, furious. Around him, other patrons chuckled to each other, this display a common practice. Everyone in there had seen Papyrus drag Sans away from the bar at least half a dozen times now. It was both funny and cute, how much Papyrus fussed at his brother.

Sans just sighed when he heard Papyrus coming, and wondered who had told on him. It wasn't like he was even working that day. Papyrus just didn't like him in here, for some reason. Not that this kept Sans from coming. So long as Papyrus didn't notice he was gone, he could spend hours in here, chatting with the other customers or with Grillby, allowing the poisoning effects of human food to make his brain all warm and fuzzy. Sans loved being drunk. Liked feeling like he was walking around in someone else’s shoes, if only because he had forgotten his own by that point.

Not tonight, he supposed, as Papyrus grabbed him by the arm.

“Hello Grillby,” Papyrus greeted the fire element, who nodded amiably back, before glaring at Sans, “Now say 'Goodbye Grillby'.”

“Gotta go Gril.” Sans said, as he was dragged off the bar stool, trailing along after Papyrus as he led them out of the bar. “'Fraid I got other things, ow Paps, lighten up, 'pulling' at my attention.”

It was a weak pun, but he got a few good natured chuckles as Papyrus sighed exaggeratedly. Soon they were out in the snow, Sans legs sinking into the snow a bit and slowing him down. Apparently not to be slowed down, Papyrus leaned over and picked him up, which Sans accepted without complaint. Papyrus headed home.

“Honestly, Sans, why do you always put me through this? How is it that I leave a fridge full of healthy, good food for you every day, and yet I still find out you’re in that swill hole of grease and disease?”

“It's a nice atmosphere,” Sans said, leaning against his brother contently, “I don't really get why you hate it there so much. I bet you'd like it if you tried it. You know the other guys all think you’re awesome.”

“Do they?” Papyrus said, a little flattered by this. It'd be nice to make some new friends...but he didn't like the attention Sans got there. Didn't like that Sans felt like he needed to go somewhere else to have a good time. Surely The Great Papyrus's company should be enough? Honestly. Why did Sans have to make things so difficult?

“Yeah.” Sans said as Papyrus opened the door to their house, closing it behind them before heading to the couch to dump Sans there. “Everyone's always telling me how lucky I am to have you. I bet you would like them. You should come hang out with us.”

“There is no 'us', Sans, those people aren't your friends.” Papyrus said sternly, “They're your 'human food buddies'. They only like having you around because they think its amusing when your brain is half melted from human food. I don't like it.”

Sans winced, “Awww, come on Paps. They're...they're not like that.” At least, not entirely. He was sure they would like hanging out with him in other settings, but the only times they were all together was when they were in the bar. Otherwise they were busy, like him with family or work or whatever. The bar was as good a place to hang out as any, anyway. What was wrong with it?

“Well, I wish you wouldn't put yourself through that. They're laughing at you when you make an idiot of yourself making those stupid jokes, Sans, how do you not see that? Honestly, I'm embarrassed for you whenever you go there.” Papyrus said, heading to the kitchen, “What the other villagers must think of us...ugh. Promise me you won't go there again? At least not today?”

Sans sighed, shrugging, “Yeah, okay, bro. Promise...”

Sans was quiet for a moment as Papyrus heated up the stove, meaning to cook something. Probably spaghetti. It was all he ever cooked. “Paps...” Sans said, “I know they aren't my friends. But you really think they think badly of me?”

Papyrus was certain of it. After all, all the things that the other villagers claimed to 'like' about Sans, his humor, his laziness, his tendency to run around selling things when he was supposed to be working, were things that Papyrus liked Sans despite of. So if the other villagers claimed these traits were endearing, well..

“They mess with you all the time Sans. But it’s okay,” Papyrus said, grinning brightly at his brother, “I'll always be there for you. I won't laugh at you behind your back, or even in front of you, because I don't think you're funny. You can always count on me, brother!”

Sans looked at him, his face unreadable. Then he shrugged and chuckled, “Yeah, alright. Whatever you say bro.”

Sans thought that Papyrus was probably misreading the Grillby situation. But his heart was in the right place, even if his brother didn't know how to express it. And, well...maybe the others were laughing at him...

Meh. Who cared. His bro liked him. That was all that mattered.

“Thanks Pap.”

“You're welcome, brother! Now come help me with this, I'm starting to think I might have made this sink too big! I'll pass you the bowls and you can fill them.”

“Roger that, bro.”

-

Sans knew there was something wrong when Papyrus stopped talking about whatever the days’ adventure had been about and had just stared at Sans for what was easily ten minutes of straight silence. Sans tried not to look back at him, tried to focus on the paper in front of him, where he was making new, ambitious drawing decisions, like making mindless zig-zag lines rather than mindless circles. It was his best work yet.

If Sans could have screamed, he would have started screamed the second Papyrus went to take the chain off. If Sans could have thrashed without hurting his leg, he would have thrashed violently. Instead all he could do was try to push Papyrus's hands away when he went to pick him up, and then just covered his own face, trying to pretend nothing was happening as Papyrus carried him out of the room.

As they walked towards the stairs, Sans already couldn't breath, his every breath heavy and deep and just not enough. Not again not again not again.

Papyrus didn’t pay much heed to the fact that his brother was clearly hyperventilating in his arms, humming cheerfully and placing a small 'clink' to the top of his brothers skull as they got to the bottom of the staircase before making the sharp turn towards the bathroom. He felt something wet against his ribcage and had to fight off an annoyed sigh. His brother was already crying. What a babybones.

He placed Sans inside the tub, who immediately positioned himself with his back against the tub, his body curled around one knee while his other leg laid limp, refusing to move his 'bandage boot'. Papyrus closed the door behind them, but didn't bother locking it. His brother couldn't exactly 'run' anywhere.

Papyrus just liked the closed off feeling of there being no exits, that's all.

Papyrus sat at the edge of the tub, “Now, Sans, I know last time was a bit...messy. Rushed, I think, being the biggest problem. It was our first time, it's understandable that things could get a bit confusing. No one’s really to blame.” Papyrus reached down and plugged the drain, turning on the faucet immediately afterwards. Though the pressure of the water was merely a soft drizzle, Sans whole body jerked at the sound of it, and he ducked his face into his knee, breathing heavily. Papyrus placed a soothing hand across his brothers skull and felt him shivering.

A sparkle of warmth shot through Papyrus's body and he smiled.

“There, there, Sans. It's going to be okay. This time will be different. Not messy.” Papyrus allowed the water to run just a few feet up before turning the faucet off. There wasn't really a 'plan' behind the tub or the water. Not consciously, anyway, though if pressed Papyrus might admit, at least to himself, that he knew what he was doing. Sans needed a safe place. He had messed up with the foot, punishing Sans so badly in his room. Sans room was meant to be his safe place, where he knew he wouldn't be harmed. That would make his room more appealing to be in, make the endlessness in there more bearable.

And for Sans room to truly be his 'safe place', there had to be other places that....weren't.

Not that the bathroom was going to be some sort of 'punishment' room, goodness no!

Papyrus was thinking of using the living room for that.

More room to move around.

He gently petted Sans head for awhile, enjoying the silence. The silencer on Sans power dampening collar had been a coincidence, a feature Dr. Alphys had put on for the safety and comfort of monsters overloading on magic to not freak out their loved ones. When Papyrus had realized that dampening Sans powers would mean silencing his brother, he had thought for a moment that it might not be worth it, that he might miss the sound of Sans voice.

He didn't. He liked Sans like this. Quiet, no opinions, no objections. Papyrus was so happy these days.

“Sans,” Papyrus said, “look at me.”

His brother squeezed into his shell, a clear sign that he didn't want to make this any easier. Stubborn monster. So Papyrus put a little edge into his tone. “Sans. LOOK AT ME.”

Sans looked up, and Papyrus's heart melted into LOVE. He loved that face. Those tired eyes. He honestly couldn't say why he got such a thrill out of them, especially when they were full of tears. But he loved them.

“This doesn't have to be scary, brother.” Papyrus said, his tone soft, his hands gentle. “Really, you always make things so difficult. This is easy. I'll even do all of the work, as usual. You just have to let me Sans.”

Papyrus in truth was terrible at reading expressions. For a moment he thought he saw...oh, he didn't know. Sans expression said many things, and Papyrus couldn't read any of it. He didn't mind. Actions spoke louder anyway.

“Bring out your soul, brother.” Papyrus said, putting out his hand expectantly, “I'll do the rest.”

Then he added, with that practiced edge, “IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN EITHER WAY, SANS. IT'S UP TO YOU IF YOU ENJOY IT.”

For a moment nothing happened, and Papyrus wondered if it indeed would have to get messy again. But then Sans looked away, and from his chest a soft white glow appeared. An upside down heart.

Papyrus smiled, delighted. He reached out and grabbed it, pulling it towards him. “Wowie. It's really pretty Sans.”

He began to feel Sans the second he touched it. A slurring of two consciences at once. He felt how small Sans was trying to make himself. As if he could think himself small enough to poof right out of existence. He saw how Sans saw him, how big and powerful he appeared, how he seemed to be everything, and basked in the glory of it. He ignored the hatred. The confusion. The pain of the incredibly small hopes and the numbing effect of the endless doubts. The apathy that Sans was apparently actively attempting to make bigger, stronger. Those parts of Sans weren't important right now.

He saw how many senses Sans had and how they were all tuned to reading him, to predicting his next move, his every word and notion carrying an almost absurd amount of weight and measured carefully. Who would have thought all these tiny things, where he placed his hands, how he held his head, where he stood in a room, could give away so much about himself? He was the center of Sans universe, the whole of Sans world.

He loved it.

He knew Sans could feel how Papyrus saw him. There were no secrets in a soul merge. There was denial, though. Souls were complicated. They contradicted themselves, ignored truths and embraced lies. So when Sans saw himself, in Papyrus's eyes, and immediately tried to break away, to run, Papyrus felt nothing but confusion. Couldn't Sans see how much Papyrus adored him? How willing he was to take care of him? How cherished he was?

Huh. Some monsters just couldn't be satisfied.

don't pap.

DON'T WHAT?

don't don't don't

Papyrus sighed, already missing the silence. A downside to a soul merge. Not only could you hear the others thoughts, but their thoughts were unedited, and came like a wave of unedited text, raw and bare. Often terribly confusing. So he read, anyway. Papyrus had read quite a lot on soul merging, before finally gaining the courage to try it on Sans. A few things had, clearly, been exaggerated in the stories, such as how long it could last before he had wanted to stop. As of right now the idea of wanting multiple orgasm boggled Papyrus's mind, as one had been overwhelming on its own. Some things had been way, way more intense then he had expected. Some things hadn't been like he read at all, though he suspected he might have been doing it wrong.

Well, now was as good a time to try those things as any, right?

Paps rubbed the heart, putting pressure on it to make his souls persuasion over Sans stronger. All the stories said that the stronger ones soul was, the more control it could have over the other during a merge. He couldn't imagine Sans soul being stronger than himself. It was all about having a sense of self, and no one thought about himself more than Papyrus did.

He willed the other soul to feel pleasure. Simple pleasure. Good thoughts, good memories. HAPPY, he told the other soul. BE HAPPY. At first nothing happened, and all he felt was confusion from Sans soul. Then, little by little, Papyrus felt his soul entwine more with Sans, pushing that thought process more forcefully. HAPPY. Outside of the souls, Papyrus saw Sans shoulders shake a little. His brother was silently giggling, grinning wildly at nothing.

It was working.

Papyrus felt a flush of excitement, looking at Sans face, the physical proof of his control. Beautiful. Now to try something more concrete.

LOOK AT ME.

okay.

Sans looked up at Papyrus, joy etched into his features. While the look itself didn't send the same thrills down Papyrus's spine the way his sad and tired look did, the fact that it was HIM making his brother feel this way. Oh...oh gee.

PUT YOUR HEAD ON ME KNEE.

okay.

It was a struggle, as Sans was still trying to be very, very careful about his foot. But the small skeleton inched forward just enough to place his head on Papyrus's knee, gripping at his legs to steady himself. His body wasn't shivering anymore. He seemed calm.

TELL ME 'THANK YOU FOR MAKING ME HAPPY, PAPYRUS.

His brother shook. Another silent giggle.

I can't say anything bro he teased, and Papyrus felt himself tense. He supposed he should have expected that. Sans never did take anything seriously when he was in a good mood. In response, Papyrus dialed the happy down. Way down.

oh.

LISTEN TO ME NEXT TIME.

okay.

Why are you turning the faucet back on?

TO RAISE THE WATER LEVEL.

Why?

IN CASE YOU DON’T LISTEN AGAIN

oh.

Papyrus turned the faucet back off after a moment, the water level now at Sans stomach. Sans hadn't been paying much attention to the water, but in light of the new implications, Sans was now hyper aware of it. It was everywhere around him. It pressed at his bones.

paps don't drown me

DON'T BE A BRAT WHILE I’M DOING SOMETHING NICE FOR YOU.

im sorry paps.

thank you for making me happy paps.

please don’t drown me.

Papyrus didn't think anything back at him. But he did turn the happy back up. Way up. Sans beamed at nothing, hugging his brothers leg and giggling breathlessly.

happy pappy happy pappy happy pappy. you ever think about what we must have been like as kids? i wish i could remember. its hard to imagine you small. i bet you were cute. i bet i was a little shit. i wonder who raised us. someone had to have taken care of us right? we couldn't have just come out fully formed monsters. there must have been a 'before', right? i bet you were so cute. i bet i used to call you my happy pappy. can we stay like this? i love this.

Papyrus allowed the rambling to go on for a moment, amused. Sans had used to be a talkative drunk, too, back when he was allowed to drink. Him being able to talk hadn't been always bad.

NO. WE'RE GOING TO DO SOMETHING MUCH MORE FUN.

oh. okay.

TRY NOT TO RUIN IT THIS TIME.

okay papyrus. do my best.

Now Papyrus dripped through Sans soul feelings of desire. His own feelings of desire. Everytime Sans had looked just right. Every little hiccup of breath or accidently brush of hands that had lit Papyrus up like fireworks. Desire that had almost driven Papyrus mad. (not that it had succeeded. Goodness no. Papyrus wasn't crazy. Papyrus was just... just....)

(determined)

Sans own feeling contradicted the invasion. Repulsion. Disgust. A strange, alarming amount of guilt. Like he felt responsible for this. Papyrus supposed he was. Perhaps this was all what Sans deserved. Perhaps this was Sans punishment for being such a fuck up, for not noticing or ignoring all the warnings signs that Papyrus had needed help, had been falling, if not physically then mentally. Oh god he had messed up he had messed up so badly-

Papyrus shook his head, freeing himself from the fog of Sans soul, not so much trying to overcome his own soul, but accidentally invading back. Sans emotional state right now was powerful, but Papyrus was more so. He quieted Sans panic, submerged his guilt. This wasn't about him.

Desire. Desire to hold. Desire to protect. Desire to control. Desire, desire, desire.

DO YOU WANT TO TOUCH ME SANS?

i don't know.

YOU DON'T KNOW? IT FEELS LIKE YOU KNOW.

i don't know, i don't know, i don't know. can we go back to feeling happy. i liked that.

I CAN FEEL HOW BADLY YOU WANT TO TOUCH ME SANS.

I CAN SEE HOW YOU WANT ME TO TOUCH YOU.

ITS SURPRISINGLY FILTHY, IN YOUR SOUL.

I NEVER KNEW, SANS.

that's not me, that's you, that’s your side? isn't it? that's not me, is it? paps i can't feel me anymore. where did i go?

THAT’S ALRIGHT. YOU'RE KIND OF TERRIBLE ANYWAY.

no no no give me back paps i don’t know i don’t know i don’t want thi-

Papyrus took Sans head and dunked it under the water.

The fear was sudden, biting. For a moment it left even Papyrus confused, his heart fluttering in panic, his physical form melting slightly in the mist of sudden terror. But he got control of himself, disentangled his mind from Sans, saw himself in the mist of Sans flurry of emotions. Papyrus's hands shook from Sans nerves, but he kept his hold firm. Just long enough to prove his point. Just long enough...

He pulled Sans back up. Sans looked up at him, soaking wet, with wide, betrayed eyes.

Another rush of excitement. This was intoxicating.

Papyrus kept himself calm though. STOP BEING DIFFICULT, SANS. i’m sorry. WE WERE HAVING A GOOD TIME, AND YOU HAD TO FUCK IT UP BY ALMOST SAYING SOMETHING YOU DON’T MEAN. i’m sorry. i fucked up. WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE SANS. sorry.

Papyrus sighed, pulling Sans into a comforting hug. The move jostled his leg and Papyrus only just put up his mental barriers in time to not feel the pain. Honestly, so much maintenance. Alright, let’s try this again. He pushed desire. He pushed need. He pushed lust. Perhaps, now more aware of the consequences for not going along with the fun, Sans soul stopped fighting the invasion, seemed to actually reach out to it. To want to lose himself to Papyrus's soul this time.

This time Papyrus felt something new from Sans. He felt Sans own lust finally spark, to react to Papyrus’s influence. He felt his brothers face warm, blue flood his bone structure. Felt his become aware of his body. Felt his sudden burst of shyness, of insecurity.

Awwww. So cute.

DO YOU WANT TO TOUCH ME SANS?

...maybe?

It wasn't defiance, it was genuine confusion. Papyrus could feel that Sans had never felt emotions like these before. He didn't know what to do with them. Desire and lust hung on him like clothes too big. If he tried to move, he was just going to trip and fall. He looked to Pap, looking for guidance, uncertain what to do next.

Which was fine. Papyrus liked to be the one making decisions anyway.

The first thing Papyrus did was take Sans soul and push it into Papyrus’s own chest, to rest next to his own heart, his soul rubbing against it in the cage of bones. Then Papyrus climbed into the tub, moving himself behind Sans so that Sans sat between his legs, doing his absolute best to not jostle Sans leg unnecessarily. And whenever he did, he just blocked the pain out anyway. When he hugged Sans around his chest, he felt Sans look at his hands, suddenly fascinated by them. Big hands. Big skeleton. Why was his brother so big? It wasn't fair.

Papyrus smiled. Adorable. Taking his 'big' hands, he used one to rub the underside of Sans ribs, the initial touch causing Sans to tense, which felt nice next to his body. He used his other hand to rub at Sans inner thigh bone, only just outside of Sans pelvis. No need to rush things, not this time.

He felt Sans uncertainty, his nerves bordering on paranoia. okay, this was alright, he felt Sans think. this is fine it doesn't hurt he's being nice. relax, buddy, just relax. this can be okay. am i supposed to be doing something? what do i do? should i touch his legs or something? this f-feels alright. it feels k-kinda weird. at least it’s not like last time. is he going to get mad if i don’t do something? what do i do?

Papyrus thought this was the cutest fucking thing he had ever seen from his brothers soul. He carefully blocked out his own expectations of Sans so that Sans couldn't cheat. He adored watching his brother try to figure this out.

Papyrus moved his one hand from Sans ribs to the inner part of Sans spine, feather brushing it up and down. He gently, very gently, pulled his other hand up from Sans thigh into his pelvis area, rubbing, gently, slowly, the rigid line of San inner pelvis.

oh oh shit okay. okay. okay. that's not. wow. heheh. definitely not like last time. oh man. okay. you're doing fine. he's not mad. i think? paps i can't feel you. g-give me a c-clue here, buddy?

A clue? Fair enough. Papyrus leaned his shoulders down, and found Sans collarbone with his lower jaw. He breathed on it, summoned his tongue and licked it up and down, enjoying the sudden shock of excitement rushing through his brother. Then, on the part he had licked up and down, he bit. Not hard. But enough to cause Sans to jump, for his whole body to seize.

He didn't let up on his rubbing. The mixture of pain and pleasure had done the trick. He felt Sans begin to shiver and shake, for once not out of fear. Lovely. He saw something bright blue form beneath the water. Nyehehehe.

Papyrus closed his eyes, allowing himself to fully step into Sans soul. In that moment, there was virtually no difference between Sans body and his own. He felt the electricity that shot through his brother, felt his own hands on Sans body. In that moment it might have even felt only mastaboraty, except he could feel the dizzying emotions of Sans in here with him, could feel the newness and the worry and, finally, the pleasure, pleasure not originating from himself but from his brother. Sans was finally giving in. Participating.

He wanted Sans to feel this immersion with him. So he took his pelvic hand and took Sans dick into it, rubbing his long fingers up and down the shaft of it. Then he took his other hand away from the spine, and covered Sans eyes.

When he touched Sans face, there was a moment of fear. he's going to dunk me he's going to put me under the water i messed up he's mad he's going to hurt me. But, slowly, this fear relaxed when Papyrus's hand merely remained firmly on top of his eyes sockets, rather than pushing down again. As the fear relaxed, the sensations of his body in Papyrus's hands intensified. His good leg twitched and jerked as the pressure around his midsection built, and Sans opened his mouth to give voiceless cries. Funnily enough, he was still obsessing over what he himself was supposed to do with his own hands.

GRAB MY ARM, SANS. THE ONE COVERING YOUR EYES. JUST HOLD ON. I'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU.

o-okay.

Sans reached up and backwards, grasping with small, shivering fingers Papyrus's arm bone. This arched Sans back, and though neither of them could explain exactly why, this seemed to intensify what was happening down below.

Papyrus felt a warm flush come over his entire body. This was good. This was so good. It...it did lack a little of the...something, from last time. Some of the passion. But not every time had to be so...so violent. This was good too. He adored the way Sans felt against him, how dependent he was on him at this moment. He enjoyed how Sans kept trying to think through this, kept trying to plan or analyze or predict, and how each jerk of Papyrus's wrist kept scrambling his thoughts, leaving him lost and breathless. Sans still seemed stuck on the fact that he felt he ought to be doing more. Papyrus decided to, nyeheh, throw Sans a 'bone'.

GOOD, SANS. THIS IS GOOD. I KNEW YOU COULD LEARN.

papyrus...i don't, uh...i dont know what to...ah...

YOU'RE DOING JUST FINE. JUST LET ME DO WHAT I WANT AND EVERYTHING WILL WORK OUT. GREAT GOOGLIE MOOGLIE, SANS, YOU FEEL SO GOOD.

nnghhh....okay...okay...

TELL ME HOW YOU FEEL SANS.

He felt the paranoia flare up in his brother again. Felt his fear of saying the wrong thing, the underline stress beneath the pleasure and the desire. It was so sweet, how afraid of him Sans was.

i...i feel good. this feels good. i-i'm doing okay?

MMMHMMM. Papyrus brought his teeth to Sans neck, and nibbled on the bone there. Sans shuddered, his eyes glazed and distant. Another burst of pleasure. His cock stiffened in Papyrus's hands and he felt the heat of the pressure. His brother likely wouldn't last much longer. YOU'RE DOING FINE, BROTHER. ARE YOU GLAD I DID THIS?

He felt something that for a moment he almost couldn't identify, come from Sans soul. A black hole of emotion, a disbelief at the question, sorrow at the reminder of the circumstance, fury, hot and thunderous, at the implication. But above it all the black hole was an apathy, an acceptance. A loss of hope.

Had it stayed for more than a moment, Papyrus would have drowned him for it, drowned him until he passed out, drowned him until maybe his soaked bones turned to dust, anything to get away from that huge, monstrous emotion that gave Papyrus every answer he could have ever wanted to blind himself too.

But maybe Sans saw that. Or maybe Sans wanted to pretend that the black hole wasn't there too. Because his brother suppressed it as soon as it reared it's ugly, dark face. Buried it so deep and so fast that they could both pretend it hadn't ever been there.

yeah. thanks pap.

The black hole had chilled Papyrus. Somewhere in him, his own suppressed emotions called out in response. Screamed at him. Sobbed at the state of his brother. Furious with his own choices, what he had allowed himself to become.

Told him to stop. Told him to die.

Papyrus had been ignoring that side of himself for a long time. It was effortless to suppress it, and he immediately 'forgot' it was ever there to begin with. Put up high, heavy walls, so that Sans would never, ever know it was there. All Sans could see was his glee. His success. His pleasure.

Papyrus was very, very good at control.

YOUR WELCOME, SANS. NOW, HOLD ON.

He increased the rhythm of his hands, letting the pressure build, build, build. The grip on his arm tightened, and if Sans had the strength, he might have even bruised Papyrus, his body shivering and shuddering in his brother's grip. This time had taken much longer than the first, and in some ways the release was less intense. One moment the pressure was there, and then warm, almost painful release, both Papyrus and Sans spasming as parts of Sans shot out and immediately dissipated in the water. It was the first time Sans had ever cum at someone else’s hands, and frankly the first time had had cummed at all in maybe a year. Papyrus kept rubbing for awhile, enjoying the hot, sore burn of the aftermath, while Sans was dizzy and lost in the sensation, no longer thinking about much of anything.

They were both breathing heavily, though Papyrus felt himself compose much faster than his partner. After a moment of sitting in the water, Papyrus took Sans soul out of his ribs, having to almost forcefully unstick it from his own soul. He was somewhat surprised to discover both souls appeared to be almost melting, the way their bones did sometimes, gooey and sticky rather than their typical soft, firm texture. He took the soul and, with some reluctance, pushed it back into Sans, allowing his own soul to melt into his body as well. The connection gone.

It was almost deafening, how quiet it suddenly was. All Papyrus could hear was the sound of his and Sans breathing, the rippling of the water in the tub. It almost made him miss the babbling, rambling mess of Sans nervous mind. Almost made him miss Sans.

He knew the feeling would pass. He reached over Sans trembling shoulders and unplugged the tub, the water draining noisily.

“Well, that was something.” Papyrus sighed, positioning himself to get up, wrapping his arms around Sans so that when he stood, he could carry Sans with him. He was careful with the leg, but was glad he no longer had to put up a mental wall to block out Sans ankle. That had hurt quite a bit. It wasn't something he would like to feel regularly.

Sans face was distant, still flushed. Maybe overwhelmed? Papyrus wasn't sure. He placed a loving 'clink' against Sans face.

“You did really well, Sans. See how easy it all was?” Papyrus asked, shaking off his wet bones as he used a free hand to open the door, taking Sans out of the bathroom. “You must be exhausted, I know I am. Let's go to bed a bit early tonight. How about this: we'll even leave the chain off until I have to go to work tomorrow. How does that sound Sans?”

Papyrus felt Sans nod against his chest. Good. Give and take. That was what a healthy relationship was all about. Sans had been good, so his brother could give a little. And that was how they would make progress.

Papyrus was so proud of himself. Sans was finally learning. And soon his brother would look as forward to these little bathroom visits as he did. Everything was going perfectly. His perfect little puzzle. Neyeheheheh!

-

When Papyrus fell asleep that night, Sans crawled out of the sports bed. He couldn't walk. So he sort of half crawled, half dragged himself to the door.

He didn't go through it. Didn't try to open it. Just stared at it. Felt the lack of weight of the chain and stared at the door. Trying to think of something. Trying to think of anything.

Freedom. He could see freedom. But he didn't know what to do with it. He could barely move. Where would he even go?

What would Papyrus do when he found him?

When Papyrus woke up about twenty minutes later, he felt a moment of panic at the lack of body by his side. He sat up and looked around, trying to control that feeling of panic. It didn't last long though, because it was only a moment before he heard the familiar sound of small, heaving breaths.

Papyrus hung himself upside down from the bed, looking at the darkness underneath. Sans was curled up under the bed frame, sobbing to himself. He was turned away from Papyrus, unaware that his brother was there.

Papyrus was tired. He decided to not alert Sans to his presence and just drew his body back into the bed, turning over and going back to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, Sans was back in the bed, sound asleep, dark, red rims around his eyes. Papyrus thought it was cute. The look on Sans face when he put the chain back on was even cuter.

-

Sans hated the water. He stayed away from the tiled islands edge, resting instead on his hammock, his eyes suspiciously searching the water horizon for the now familiar shadows of the fish. He didn't look at the sky. He had to keep an eye on the water.

The fish was going to eat him.

Sans imagination didn't let him go to other places anymore.

-

There should have been something leading up to it. Some prior warning, or special moment. It was all so strange. One minute, the child wasn't there. The next minute, they were.

Sans didn't react to the child, just stared at it, fairly certain he was imagining things. The child was a human, but incorrect. Their eyes were white, their skin was gray, everything about them was gray. They looked as if they had just stepped out of an untouched coloring book. They radiated a sense of peace, and they smiled at him. They were small. As small as he was. When they saw he was sitting, his bottom of his spine against the wall, the chain heavy around his neck, they got on the ground too, resting on their knees. They didn't tower. They didn't look down at him. Sans had forgotten what it was like to be in the presence of someone who didn't tower or look down at him.

“Hi.” Said the child.

Sans supposed he had finally lost his mind, and felt amused by this. In a way he was relieved. An imaginary friend would certainly be better than the presence of his brother, or the emptiness of the room.

“Hey bucko. What'chya doing here?” Sans asked.

“I'm here to help you, Sans.” The child said.

Sans twitched, his amusement gone. It appeared this daydream was the heartbreaking, false hope kind. The kind he'd kick himself later for indulging in. He turned his head away and stared sullenly at the wall. “Nope. Not today Sansy,” Sans grumbled to himself, “Not dreaming this shit today. Already sick of this. Let’s move on to the nightmare portion and get this over with.”

“You're not dreaming, but it’s okay that you think you are. Sometimes it takes time to accept the good things, when all you've gotten is bad.” The child said, “My name is Frisk. I'm known as Core!Frisk to those that know about me. In another timeline, I'm your friend. I want to be your friend in this timeline too, if you'll let me.”

Sans felt everything tense inside him, growing angry with himself. He had done research into timelines for a long time, a byproduct of his research into reality itself. Reality, if the theories were correct, splintered in millions of different directions, all branches simultaneously existing. Of course his brain would use his old passion against him. It wasn't like he hadn’t daydreamed he could live in another branch before...

“One version of you once named this world number 2204.” The child said, filling in their half to a conversation they weren't having. But then, maybe in another branch, they were. “He only ever looked at this place once, and then never again. When he met me, he spoke to me of it, again only once. He is in fact telling me about this world right now. That is how I found you.” The child said, their voice soft, giving information as if they had answered these unasked questions a thousand times before, and would a thousand times again. Their smile grew a touch sadder, “And now that I have been here, I know everything about this place, because I am out there learning it all right now. I would have come sooner, if I could have. I'm sorry you had to wait so long.”

Sans hesitated. The child was speaking cryptically, but he knew enough about timelines to get the hint. “You're...in multiple places right now?”

“I'm everywhere, all the time.” Frisk said, “For a given value of 'everywhere' and 'always'. I can not know things unless a version of me has seen it. Once a version of me has, I know it. There are as many mes' as there is timelines, but there is only me.”

Sans was already thinking of how to test this. He decided-

“In one timeline you punched me.” Frisk said, undisturbed, “You only ever did it for one timeline though. Every other version of us who knew what was going to happen had this conversation instead. You have a very weak punch, by the way. Frail, even for a Sans. You're not well.”

Sans paused, uncertain how to take any of this now. He was still pretty sure he was hallucinating, or dreaming. But did it matter? Did anything matter? He laughed. “Yeah, well, my Bro hasn't been feeding me lately because I...”

He stopped. Froze. When had he...when the hell...

He began to tremble, shake. It was overwhelming, now that he had noticed it. When the kid had arrived, he had been so taken in by the surrealness of the situation that he just hadn't noticed... “C-can you hear me?” He asked, he asked, his voice suddenly small, a whisper. “Am I s-saying this out loud?”

Frisk held something up. It looked like a little round silver chip. “In the future, a version of you and a friend make this for me to bring to you. Once something happens it’s always happened. I merely depend on the catalyst to start it. Being omnipresent is complicated. Try not to think about it too hard.” Frisk advised, handing the chip to him, “It's meant to go on your collar. It disrupts it in a way that allows you to speak.”

Sans took the small chip with shaking hands, staring at it. It was a clasp. He could just click it on. “But...” Sans said, still overwhelmed by the sound of his own voice, the freedom that came from it, “If you're real, just...take it off me. I hate it. I hate it so much.” Sans growled, and the trueness of that statement, of allowing himself to acknowledge that hatred, brought bitter, angry tears to his eyes, “i h a t e i t i h a t e i t i h a t e h i m .”

Frisk nodded sadly. “I can't. You've had it on too long. If we took the collar off, your magic would overwhelm you. You wouldn't be able to control it. You'd burn yourself out, and take half of the Underground with you.”

“G o o d.”

The child sighed, “You only feel like that now. I'm here to help you. I will not help you make decisions that will destroy you.”

“T h e y a b a n d o n e d m e .”

“In a way, yes. They certainly didn’t watch out for you as they should have.”

“H e h u r t m e .”

“Yes, he did.”

“H e h u r t s m e s o m u c h w h y d i d h e d o t h i s t o m e w h y d i d t h i s h a p p e n ?!”

“This world,” Frisk paused, for the first time uncertain what they would say. This was the first timeline they would say it in, and they did not want to get it wrong. “is...a mistake. This version of Papyrus an anomaly. A very, very rare one. There are many evil versions of him, and many, many more good versions. But Papyrus tends to reflect the world he lives in, to be the most honest and clear example of that worlds’ values and belief. To have a version of him that grew in a relatively decent timeline, to become the monster that he is here...I have not had this conversation many times, Sans. This version of reality is rare enough that to call it a branch of the alpha line is to give it more credit than it deserves. This version of Papyrus, the one that has hurt you so badly, is more like...a glitch. An error. A corruption of code, rather than an actual branch of dialogue. It's such a perfect corruption that the odds of it being unintentional...” Frisk trailed off, lost in an idea, or maybe seeing newly acquired knowledge that, Sans was sure, they would immediately claim to have known and always known now. Then they seemed to shake it off, “But that's not important right now. What's important is that I can help you. I want you to leave this place Sans.”

“Pff,” Sans huffed, a flash of paranoia making him look towards the door of his room, though he was reasonably sure Papyrus wasn't even in the house right now. He had given up on escape ages ago. “and go where? There's nowhere in the Underground he wouldn't eventually find me. The monsters out there all think I'm some crazy being on the verge of falling down. They'd take me right back to him, and he would...he would...he would hurt me. For leaving.”

“I can take you out of this timeline,” Frisk explained, “To a place I call the Omega timeline. Once you know how to get there, you can visit it anytime you want, and stay as long as you want. Forever, even, if you wanted to. You can leave it,” they stressed, “anytime you want. No one will make you stay. It'll be entirely up to you, where you want to be.”

“Heh. You make it sound I'd have a problem with being somewhere I couldn't leave. Old hat at that, by now.” Sans chuckled darkly. Then he remembered.

“I, uh...besides,” Sans said, “I don't think I'll be walking out of here anytime soon.

He looked down at his leg. He forgot, sometimes. Or rather, just didn't think about it. He didn't know what his ankle looked like, underneath the wrapping, inside of Papyrus's old boot. All he knew was that Papyrus's 'boot bandage' only hid the fact that his foot was barely hanging on, rather than helping heal it. The pain of stepping on it had been so breathtakingly bad that it had blinded him for several minutes the first and only time he had tried it. Sometimes when Papyrus picked him up, Sans heard sounds that reminded him of small stones in a bag, and made him sick if he thought too long about what it meant. The dull ache that came from it was so constant as to be only background noise to him now, so long as he didn't move it.

Frisk frowned at this, but their eyes narrowed, full of determination, “We just have to get to your door. All you have to do is open a door, any door, and think about the omega timeline, and that's where that door will go. I can't help you. I can't hold physical things. Even getting that chip to you took a lot of what Science called 'fourth wall witchery'. But if you can just get yourself there, someone stronger than me can help us. And we can get you better...” Frisk hesitated, before adding in, honestly, “If that's possible. At the very least we can make it...stable.”

Sans laughed. Tears were running from his eyes. He didn't believe them. He hated them. He had just finally started becoming content with all of this. Hope sucked.

He pointed to the chain. “What about this?”

When he blinked, the chain was gone. He froze, the sudden lack of pressure pulling at his collar stunning. Was this real? Was this actually happening? He had still been more or less convinced that he was lost in another daydream, or just straight up dreaming. He started to shake in fear.

“T-that doors probably locked.” Sans said, uncertainty etched into every word. He had no idea if the door was locked. Papyrus didn't have to lock the door, with Sans chained up and unable to reach it, and Sans had never bothered to ask if he did or not. Had never tried to open it before, even during that one night when Papyrus had left the chain off as a reward for being good during their second 'bath time'. Oh god, he had gotten so good at being good. Why did this kid have to come in and...and...

WHY DO YOU RUIN EVERYTHING SANS?

Sans flinched. It was just a memory, but the fear of that first session. The foot that even after all this time still hadn't healed, had probably only gotten worst inside of Papyrus's stupid fucking boot.

If this was actually happening he needed to go.

Every bit of him froze up in fear at the realization that he was actually going to try. But he needed to go. He needed to. He was dying in this room. His mind decaying. He didn't bother reading his text books anymore. Didn't write his jokes. Didn't do much of anything anymore unless Papyrus specifically told him to do it. His mind was wasting away just as much as his body. Breaking down. Giving up. The only thing having kept him from falling being the red stuff that forced his body to hold on, unforgiving and unrelenting. Anything was better than this.

“C-can he f-follow us?” Sans asked, his teeth chattering. He was so afraid. He hadn't tried defiance in so long. He was so afraid, “W-will he c-come after me?”

“He'll have no idea where you went.” Frisk said. “And even if he did, he has no one to tell him how to get there. I promise. He can't find you there.”

Frisk thought about mentioning that there were, in fact, LOTS of Papyrus's in the Omega timeline. But not a one of them would ever hurt Sans the way his had hurt him, and Frisk didn't want to discourage him from trying to leave. She could see how much of a struggle it was for him just to summon the courage and will to try.

“He's going to be so mad...”

“Let him be.”

“If he f-finds me-”

“He can't. He literally can't. Come on Sans.” Frisk said, standing up and walking backwards, holding out their hands, never breaking eye contact, “Follow me.”

Choices were hard, but orders were more familiar. He didn't even think about it. Carefully, slowly, he began to crawl towards them, following their steps, heading towards the door. His fear made the dull, constant pain more noticeable, the movement made it worst. His soul was screaming at him. Telling him to stop. Telling him to not make Papyrus mad. Things were so much BETTER when Papyrus wasn't angry.

“Come on Sans.” Frisk said, standing next to the door, “Think about the omega timeline. A place where he can't reach you. Open the door. You can do this.”

Sans hesitated. Maybe he shouldn't. Maybe it was better to let himself decay. Stop thinking. Stop thinking forever.

In the distance, he heard the front door open and close. His heart thundered so loud that his skull vibrated at the sound. His chain was off. There was someone in his room. And he was on the other side of the room.

And Papyrus had just come home.

Terror froze him. Frisk was unphased. “Come on Sans.” they said. “Not much further. Just grab the handle.”

He heard Papyrus slowly, cheerfully, walk up the stairs. Heard his brother call out to him, saying he was home. Saying that he had better be awake. Sounding happy.

Frisk stood by the door. Waiting.

What would happen if Papyrus opened the door?

A different terror gripped him. Terror at a future where none of this mattered. Terror at a lost opportunity. Terror at what Papyrus would do once they were found. He would take him down to the living room. He’d make Sans watch him put down plastic on everything. Everything would have to be neat. Tidy. Everything was going to hurt so badly…

A new thought drifted in.

He looked at the kid. 

The soft, strange gray child who stood, unafraid, as Papyrus's footsteps got closer. Not moving. Not breaking their gaze.

Would Papyrus kill the kid?

Heh. heh.

Oh god.

He reached out.

-

Papyrus opened the door.

“You'll be excited to hear about this,” the skeleton assured, carrying grocery bags, “So apparently there's this dish called 'lasagna' or something, right? Well, me and Undyne tonight are going to test it out, and I just know that you'll....be...”

The room was empty.

**Works inspired by this one:**

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